My Father Visits Ch. 09

John could hear his cell phone ringing, but he couldn't figure out where the sound was coming from. It took a couple of rings for him to remember that he would rather the call go into voice mail, anyway. He had had voice-mail on his old home phone for twenty-five years, and he had only given up the landline six months ago when he moved to this apartment, but old habits die hard.

A few minutes later, he found the phone in his jacket pocket and checked for messages. Immediately, he was glad that he had let voice mail pick it up. The call was from his son Ryan. Which normally wouldn't be such a big deal. But he hadn't spoken to his son for a month.

Not since before he had started fucking Ryan's wife.

Nevertheless, he fiddled with the icons until he brought up the message for playback. "Hey dad," came the voice. "It's Ryan. So I was wondering... well, Michelle and I were... we were hoping you would like to come over for a visit again sometime soon. Like... maybe one of the next couple of weekends? Or whenever. Just... well, call me back. Okay? Thanks. Bye."

He listened to it twice. His son's voice did seem a little shaky, a little uncertain. Which made sense. Michelle had assured him that his son knew what was going on. Apparently they had a kinky arrangement; she had Ryan's permission to sleep with other men. He even seemed to enjoy it, according to Michelle. Well, he could get his head around that. The idea that she had chosen to seduce her husband's father -- that he had allowed it to happen, had gratefully and then greedily enjoyed his own son's wife, sexually -- well, he still hadn't completely reconciled that part of it.

He knew that at some point he would have to engage with his son again, but he was glad that he hadn't picked up the phone and been thrust unprepared into a conversation. He would probably have sounded even more nervous and uncertain than Ryan had in his message.

At least by being the one to initate the return call, he would have time to get his wits about him. Still, he wasn't eager to jump in to it. On the other hand, a trip to his son's house meant seeing Michelle again, and he liked the idea of that. He wondered... would he be able to have sex with her, there, under her husband's own roof? He felt himself thickening and stiffening inside his trousers at the thought.

So instead, he scrolled through the numbers in his phone and found his daughter-in-law's number, and sent her a text. "Are you free to talk?" he asked.

A few minutes later she called him back. "Hey there," he said. "Are you where you can talk?"

"Yes," she replied. "I'm out on the patio. Ryan's inside."

"Okay. So, he called me this morning."

"Uh huh."

"Good, so you know. He invited me over."

"Yes, I know," she replied, sounding ever-so-slightly impatient. "That was my idea." Then, in a more conspiratorial tone, she added, "He told me he just left a message. So how did he sound?"

John breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled. "Pretty nervous," he admitted. "So... he absolutely knows what we've been doing, right?"

"Oh, he knows," Michelle assured him.

"Hmmm," he replied. "And, um, I gather... I hope... we'll get a chance to do some more of that... when I visit?"

"In your son's house?" she asked, in mock surprise.

"Well... yeah."

"I'm counting on it."

John exhaled loudly. "Good. And... he knows that, too?"

"I'm pretty sure he assumes it. Keeping him off-balance is part of the fun."

"It's going to be... weird."

"That's part of the fun, too. Remember... we're three consenting adults, playing a kinky game."

"All right then," John agreed, shaking his head. "Next weekend?"

***

I hung up the phone and walked back to the bedroom. Michelle was already in bed, reading, wearing an oversized t-shirt. And what else, under the sheets, I couldn't tell.

"Okay," I told her. "He's coming next weekend."

"I'm sure he will be," she teased. I quivered.

"So how did he sound?" she asked.

"Umm... a little... unsettled. Probably not as much as I did," I admitted. My head had been spinning ever since she had made this suggestion, this inevitable next progression in our unthinkable adventure.

"Good," she smiled. "You know he'll be sleeping in this bed, don't you?"

I was expecting that, but I still felt a little jolt.

"It's what you want, isn't it?"

I swallowed hard. I couldn't deny it, but I couldn't say the words. I just nodded.

"Are you excited right now?"

I nodded again. I was. I was as physically aroused as the now-ubiquitous cage would allow.

"So am I," she informed me. "God, I can't wait."

"I... I could help you with that," I said, hopefully.

"I'm sure you could," she said with a smile. "But... we can't. This is your dad's pussy now, remember?"

I had expected that, too, but hearing her say it again made me light-headed.

"But, come here," she said. "We can still have a little fun."

Okay, I thought. I quickly undressed. Everything, of course, except for the stainless steel accessory around my genitals. Meanwhile, Michelle drew the bedsheet aside, revealing that she was naked below her nightshirt. Her soft thighs parted and I could see her arousal glistening on her coral rose lips. I climbed onto the foot of the bed, eager to bury my face there, even as the realization flashed back through my consciousness that the last cock that had been there had been my father's.

But she had other ideas. She grabbed one of the small decorative throw pillows and placed it over her lap, and then reached for me. "Come on up here," she said. "I need a man on top of me." She always had a way of reminding me that her denial games were designed to keep me aroused, not to demean me. But then she added, "And you'll have to do."

I chuckled nonetheless as I lowered myself into her embrace, felt her legs come up around me. The pillow, I realized, was to allow me to hold her, to grind and thrust against her, without damaging her delicate labia with the metal contraption I was wearing.

"This is so fucking hot," she confided to me, as I took my weight onto my elbows and looked down into her smiling but devious eyes. She wasn't just talking about this little pantomime of sex, I knew; she was talking about the whole illicit weekend we were planning.

She ran her hands up over my biceps, then around my back. I leaned down and kissed her, chastely, but she parted her lips for me and soon we were swirling tongues. I felt her thighs move up around my hips, and I began to thrust gently into the pillow between her legs.

We broke off the kiss and she looked at me and released a contented sigh. Then she bopped my face with her finger and said, "You've got his nose."

I blurted out a laugh. This game we were playing was so ludicrous.

"Where are we going with this?" I asked, impulsively.

"It's like I keep telling your dad," she said. "We're just three consenting adults playing a kinky game."

"I know, I know. But I guess... " What I wanted to ask was, how do we get off this rollercoaster? And when? Not that I was ready for that yet, but... but instead I just asked again, "Where is it leading?"

"You need an exit strategy," she surmised. I shrugged. Close enough.

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe I leave you and run off with him. And twenty years from now when he's eighty and I'm spoon-feeding him pureed carrots and you're in your peak earning years, you can cuckold him back."

I laughed at that and buried my face in the crook of her neck.

"You know he understands that I love you and that this is how we play," she assured me.

"And I talk to him all the time about how he needs to start dating, and eventually he'll find someone serious and... well, she probably won't approve of him having a side piece."

"Who is his daughter-in-law," I added.

"Right," she smiled. "So he knows this isn't going to last forever. But... you're not getting out of this without at least surrendering your bedroom to him for a weekend."

I felt like we were on the verge of talking about this seriously. Except for the part where I was rocking my pelvis against the pillow covering her pubic mound.

"It's really going to be weird though," I mumbled. "I mean, just the... talking to each other."

"Well, just so you know, he thinks so, too," my wife assured me. "I told him that power exchange is often hotter when no words are spoken about it."

"Power exchange," I repeated.

"Uh huh. What else do you call it when a new man comes into your home and takes your bedroom, and your wife?"

I spasmed once again, just at the words. Especially when the new man is your father, I thought to myself. That's not just a power exchange, it's a power inversion. Or reversion.

"So... what else are you wondering?" she asked. "Do you... want to watch?"

Oh, God. Somehow, amazingly, I hadn't even thought of that. I've often watched her with other men before, depending on the situation. But watching my dad? Not even with my wife. Especially not with my wife. No, I just didn't want to watch my dad fuck.

Did I?

"Well, don't worry, I don't think that's going to happen," she told me. "Your dad's pretty old-school about a lot of things."

"Apart from boffing his son's wife," I countered.

"Yes, well, that. But he's not an exhibitionist. And moreover... well, I think he's kind of taken to the whole idea of sleeping with another man's wife. I mean, like, taken to it. But he's not getting off on the fact that I'm your wife.

"Does that make sense?"

I agreed that it did. Then she looked at me deviously and added, "Not nearly like you get off on the fact that he's your DAD."

She had me there. I was silent for a while, but my rocking intensified. Whatever serious conversation we might have had, it was over. And she knew it.

"You know he's going to be the next man to actually have sex in this bed," she whispered. I whimpered my acknowledgment. "No cage on that penis."

"And no condom," I added, helplessly, like a kid picking at a scab.

"Oh, God, no." She closed her eyes and smiled. "I mean... have I told you how good he feels inside me?"

"Uh huh," I squeeked.

"No, I mean, really told you?" Her eyes were open again, and she was staring into mine with wicked intent.

"He's not that much bigger than you are," she continued. "Just *enough.* Just... thicker." She paused while I flinched as usual at being told this again. "But, God, that foreskin...

"I mean, I always thought there was something primal, something super-masculine, about an uncut cock. Even just the way it hangs there, kind of menacing, like a... iron fist in a velvet glove.

"And then, your dad doesn't do much 'manscaping,' and that kind of adds to it. But it's okay on him, it suits him."

I was fascinated by her commentary, amazed at her ability to turn me on in new ways not only with new levels of detail, but also by accentuating the differences between my father and me.

"But, oh Ryan," she continued, using my name like a scalpel to slice into my psyche, "The way it feels. How can I describe it? I mean, it's so fascinating to just play with, the way I can stroke him with no lubrication, pull his skin back to reveal that big shiny knob, and his skin itself doesn't move under my fingers, but I can feel all the texture of what's beneath that, all the way back, and up again... the texture... the heat... the power...

"I guess you don't know quite what I'm talking about, do you?" I gulped. No, since I didn't have a foreskin, and I had never touched one. I could only imagine.

"You can only imagine," she said, reading my mind as always. "Well, it's kind of like that when he penetrates me. He pushes the foreskin up over his head when he enters me, and then I can feel the walls of my vagina pulling the foreskin back as he pushes in. Releasing the beast.

"And then every time he withdraws, his hood..." she paused. "What's the opposite of 'retract'?"

"Fuck, Michelle, I don't know." She wants an editor *now*?

She laughed. "Anyway, I can just feel him, moving in and out and in and out of himself, as he's moving in and out of me. Like he's fucking me at two speeds at once. Or like... like he's using my pussy... to masturbate himself."

That image made me jerk, just as she knew it would. So she whispered again, "Your wife's sweet, sweet pussy..."

I had never cum in a cock cage before, but I had read that it was possible.

Meanwhile, I was reeling at her ability to play with my head in new ways. It wasn't like my father was the first uncircumcised man she had ever been with, but she had never made me feel so inadequate by comparison before.

"But I guess you'll never quite know how that feels, will you?" she breathed, as if on cue.

"And then... well, it's like we never lose connection. I can feel his head up against my cervix, then back down against my g-spot, and then up again, and he never stops rubbing my clit."

God, I thought. I wasn't even sure she was giving me a totally accurate account here, but I wasn't in any shape to analyze the mechanics.

"Anyway, another nice thing is, he doesn't... like, wick out all my lubrication. I stay wet, and he can just go, and go, and go...

"Hmmm. I wonder..." she mused, and she ceased her gentle responsive movements underneath me until I stopped thrusting too. "Do you think that's why he agreed to have you circumcised when you were a baby? Because he knew that that way when you grew up, he would be able to please your woman better than you?"

I shook my head and grinned at her preposterous suggestion, and at her perpetual ability to be in control, to play with my brain even when I was turning all of my motor control over to my lower abdomen. And also at her seemingly limitless ability to stack another rock on my growing mountain of insecurities in comparison to my Dad. Bigger. Stronger. More primal. Just Better. And now, more diabolical.

She resumed the gentle, boat-rocking-in-the-tide motion of her hips beneath me, inviting me to begin my muted thrusting again. "And then," she said, drawing her hands from my 41-inch chest to my 32-inch waist. "There's just so much more of him behind each thrust.

"And you know... well, I just love that sex with you is so much *fun.* Playful. Adventurous. Experimental.

"But with your dad, well, once he's in me, he's like... serious business."

I could sense that my breathing was changing, getting heavier to match the darker expression in her guileful eyes. "Serious..." I repeated, huskily. "Business."

"Uh huh. Primal."

"Primal," I recited.

"Ryan. When your father fucks me, biology takes over."

"Biology." I was falling into a trance.

"It's all about putting a baby in me."

Fuck. It's not like the idea had never occurred to me, but hearing her say the words hit me like a sledgehammer. But it didn't stop the instinctive thrusting of my hips.

"Does that excite you?" she whispered.

"Yes," I rasped.

"I could stop taking the pill tomorrow."

"Michelle..."

"Should I? Is that what you want?"

I realized that I was involuntarily squeezing my thighs together, and suddenly for the first time in my life, I was cumming inside a chastity cage. It wasn't quite as unsatisfying as a ruined orgasm, but it was close. I could feel myself pulsing, but not the full-bodied throbbing I craved. Worse, I could feel the sticky wetness of my semen seeping out through the bars of my cage, all along the compressed length of my aching penis, soaking futiley into the pillow and smearing back against my crotch.

While what my mind was imagining, was my father's thick erection, full and strong and proud, spurting his virile seed up deep inside my wife's willing body. Bathing her cervix, which was pulsing with her own orgasm, rythmically spasming and contracting to welcome his semen into her uterus and beyond. My father's semen. Slick and thick and viscous, a supporting flood of lubricants and nutrients for the army of tens of millions of his eager, valiant sperm racing toward her ovaries. To impregnate her. To fulfill her destiny, her purpose, and his; to supplant me in the biological chain of life, making me an irrelevant dead end.

Jesus. Was I still cumming, or was I cumming again?

I realized that I had had my eyes screwed shut for some time; I was still holding myself up on my elbows above my wicked, amazing wife, and she was looking up at me with a pleased, self-satisfied smile on her pretty face.

"See? Didn't I tell you we could still have a little fun?"