My Father's Woman Ch. 04

"On a three-day weekend?" Dani was pressing. I just shrugged. "Leaving you here alone? On a holiday?"

I watched her cute, expressive face. Her eyes were round and wide above her chubby, dimpled cheeks, the exaggerated mascara causing her lashes to appear as an explosion around each hazel pupil. Then they got even wider, and her voice dropped.

"Oh my God. She's at your dad's house, isn't she?"

Oh, shit. I tried not to gasp or fall over backwards in my chair. "What are you talking about?" I rasped.

"Your dad and your wife! He really is fucking her, isn't he?"

I tried to swallow but couldn't. Wait... three weeks ago my father had gone on a "date" with this girl... or at least, picked her up and took her to the zoo, and then for a ride in his convertible, during which she had pulled his cock out of his trousers and given him head. But what *else* had they done, and talked about?

"He told you that?"

Her mouth fell open, revealing the enticing little stud on her tongue. "Ha! I knew it! No, he didn't tell me. I could tell at the party, the night before! The way they were looking at each other! Everyone could tell!"

My head was spinning, and I thought I would be sick.

"Oh my Gawd!" Dani was going on. "I can't believe it! This is so fucking hot! Mister DAH-no-van, you're a cuck! And your wife is banging your own dad!"

I had nothing to say. I was too busy trying not to hyperventilate.

"Oh, God. So, are you locked up while she's gone?"

I managed to make enough eye contact with her that she knew the answer. "You are, aren't you? Your penis is stuffed into one of those hard little cages, isn't it? God, that is so fucking hot.

"Can I see it?"

I couldn't believe it, but things were surreal now. Before I knew it, I was standing in the cool semi-darkness of my living room with my pants around my ankles while Dani squatted in front of me, her skirt riding up over her plump thighs, marveling with fascination at my stunted, imprisoned manhood.

"It's adorbs!" she exclaimed. "It's so tiny!" I didn't know whether she was talking about the cage, or my two-and-a-half-inch semi-erection; and just wondering caused me to surge and ache.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"It does right now," I croaked.

"So fucking hot," she went on. "God, no wonder your wife is off fucking a guy with a real cock."

Jesus, I thought. Am I supposed to know that she's actually seen, actually tasted, my dad's cock? Does it matter at this point, given what she's now got on me?

"Dani, I..." I started to stammer.

"You what?" she cut me off. "You want me to keep this between us? Oh, no way, bubby. This is too good not to share. Here, let me take a picture..."

At that moment, I saw the front door to Dani's house open, shaking me out of my fantasy. I was still alone on my front porch, and all my secrets were still locked away inside my head, instead of being heaped onto a platter in the reckless hands of my teenage neighbor.

But it wasn't Dani coming out of the house across the street; it was her mother, Diane. She waved at me, and I waved back. And then she started making her way across the street toward me, her silver hair bobbing smartly and her skirt swishing around the purposeful steps of her shapely calves..

I felt my cage tightening around the neck of my genitals. Oh, no, here we go again, I thought. Another conversation, this one real, with another attractive woman, while I struggled to hide the frustration and discomfort from my chastity cage.

Another conversation with another woman who was going, no doubt, to ask me where my wife was; and also, unrelatedly, about my father. While I struggled to pretend the two topics weren't connected.

Another woman, I realized, who saw my father (and not me) as a potent, imminent sexual partner. The third one on this block. Counting my wife.

***

John put the top down on his convertible, and he and Michelle swung by the grocery store on their way to a park on the lake. He had to smile. When he bought this sports car, this was exactly the kind of use he hoped to put it to, the kind of companion he hoped would be in the adjacent seat; but he never would have dreamed just how much the reality could surpass the fantasy.

He no longer had access to a half a lifetime's worth of things like wicker picnic baskets or checkered tablecloths, but his date seemed perfectly fine with a cooler and a spare blanket. His date, he smiled. The woman he was dating. The woman he had taken to the company party last night, and then taken home and fucked senseless, and who had woken up beside him this morning with no plans for the entire day.

His son's wife.

They found a parking lot over a long, gradual embankment, leading down to the water, and spread their blanket a nice distance from other couples or the young families playing on the man-made beach. They opened their deli sandwiches and cans of sparkling water, and enjoyed the the sunshine and the breeze.

"This is nice," she stated. "We haven't really just had a conversation, since..."

He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. Since we started fucking?

"So what do you want to talk about?" he asked.

"TV shows?" she suggested. "Have you watched Ted Lasso?"

"No," he said. "Should I?"

"I think you would like it."

"I've heard about it. Sounds stupid. Like some old Adam Sandler movie."

She laughed. "Oh, no, not at all. He's not a buffoon. He's actually kind of wise." She cocked her head. "And kind. Kind and wise."

"Hmmm," John said.

"I was watching you at the party last night," she continued. "It kind of reminded me of Ted Lasso. How much everyone likes you. That's why you're so good at your job. A little joke for everyone. A little encouragement. Just like Ryan always said."

"Hmmm," John said again. I don't know, he thought; I'm fucking my son's wife. Doesn't sound kind or wise to me. But somehow, hearing his son's perception of him felt nice.

"Tell me what he was like as a boy," she said, changing the subject.

"We've... you've asked that before."

"Yes, but... not since you knew he was a cuckold."

John closed his eyes. God, this woman was such a rollercoaster.

"Well, mostly, he was smart," John said. "Scared his mother and me to death. And some of his teachers."

Now it was Michelle's turn to say, "Hmmm." Then she asked, "Did you ever have to discipline him?"

"Hardly ever," John said. "I think the worst thing he ever did was write his name in wet cement. And then he turned himself in before anyone noticed."

Michelle smiled. "That sounds right. So, he was not just a good boy. He disciplined himself."

John considered that. "Well, I never had to spank him. Or ground him, for that matter."

"Did you ever have to remind him to do his homework?"

"God, no. He was always... self-motivated."

"Self-motivated. Self-disciplined. Sounds like he raised himself."

John found himself feeling defensive. "Is that what Ryan says?"

"Oh, no," Michelle waved off the question. "I don't think he thinks that way. But, you know, I'm married to him. When it comes to understanding him, I'm three steps ahead of him."

John cocked his head in wonder. Yeah, his son was scary smart, but so was this woman his son had married. Meanwhile, she had rolled over onto her stomach, and was propping herself upon her elbows, so that her forearms and the bodice of her sundress created a magnificent display of cleavage. Jesus, he thought, it should be illegal to look this sexy outside a bedroom.

But she was seemingly oblivious to her exhibition, instead, locking her eyes on his as she continued.

"I know what Ryan loves. And what he craves. And what will drive him crazy."

Feeling uncomfortable about the conversation, John decided to push it in another direction.

"So how long have you been doing this?"

"What? Cuckolding him?"

He winced at her directness. "Yeah."

"Well, about two years, for real," she answered. "Before that, well, we fantasized about it from the beginning."

John tore his eyes off of his stunningly beautiful daughter-in-law for a moment and looked off toward the lake. "Well, you know, I've been doing a lot of reading about this... kink; and I understand that it's much more common than I would have... guessed. But even then... I mean, involving his dad..."

"Well, I've told you before, the first time I suggested it to him I was just teasing him, maybe testing a limit. But, yeah, I was surprised at how he responded. It took me a while to figure it out. But you know what?

"You're giving him something no other man on earth could give him."

John furrowed his brow. "Really?"

"Yes. Of course, he is jealous of any other man I'm with. Any guy can get dominant with him, and he can slip into a submissive role for a while. But there's only one man who he really wants to submit to. To give up everything for.

"You're giving him the ride of his life."

John grunted, her word "everything" still ringing in his ears. "I don't know how much more there is to drive him crazy with."

"Oh, I do," Michelle laughed. "Trust me."

John shook his head. "Trust me." There were those words again. Every time she said them, he went further down the rabbit hole, and so did Ryan.

"Did you send him that picture?" she asked.

He nodded his confirmation, so she pursued it. "And how did he respond?"

"He just sent back one of those smiley faces," John answered. "Except, it wasn't smiling."

Michelle laughed again. "What was it doing?"

John mimicked the emoticon with his own face: Eyes wide, teeth gritted. Michelle grinned. "Ah. So he liked it."

"You're sure?"

"Oh yeah. That's how he's going to respond. He can't say he likes it, not out loud. He can't say he hates it, because he's a terrible liar.

"It's just like last time you visited -- which you played perfectly, by the way. Don't ask permission. Don't say thank you.

"It's not a negotiation."

John shook his head. "So... you've been thinking ahead..."

"Well, I've got some ideas."

John took a deep breath, then said, "Okay. I'm game. What do you have in mind?"

"Not yet," she said. "Later. After we go home, and you fix me a drink, and we watch an episode of Ted Lasso." He chuckled at that, and she leaned forward and blew him a kiss. "C'mon, let's just enjoy the afternoon. We're on a date."

***

The limes sat on the cutting board, cut in half but not yet quartered. The gin and tonics would have to wait, and so would Ted Lasso. Three feet away, Michelle sat on the countertop, her sundress hiked up around her hips, and her father-in-law standing between her legs, his shorts around his ankles and his fat cock gliding in and out of her tight, slippery vagina.

Her bare arms were around his neck, her cheek pressed against his, and he could hear and feel her breathing through parted lips against his ear. He put his hands on her thighs and then slid them up, under her dress, to grasp her at her undulating hips, his fingers right where the waistband of her panties should be. If they hadn't been discarded on the kitchen floor behind him. The subject, perhaps, of the next photo he would take for his son.

He felt increasingly comfortable letting thoughts of his son invade his brain as he enjoyed his son's wife. She had been encouraging him to do so. And at the same time, she had spent much of the afternoon confirming her love for her husband, her admiration for his intellect, his empathy, and his courage his kinks.

It was so confusing; but the confusion always melted away when he was inside her, as he was now. He thrust into her harder, letting himself focus on the magnificent, luxurious sensation of her most intimate of places, lovingly caressing his sensory-overloaded erection. But this time, he allowed himself to also think about the contrast, to dwell on the fact that right now, his son's penis was enveloped not in Michelle's velvet sleeve, but encased in hard, unforgiving metal, giving him not ecstasy, but torment. And for the first time, instead of causing his own cock to flag a bit, it was making him even harder.

"God, yes," she was panting into his ear. "Give it to me, John. Give me all of it. You own this pussy."

He shook his head. Maybe they had different understandings of the word, "own."

I can love him, he could imagine her saying, and you can still own me sexually. Well, maybe he could adopt her definition.

"Yes," he gasped back at her. "I own this pussy."

And with that, he could feel her body's grasp on him tighten, and he knew she was cumming. Which was all he needed. And then he was cumming, too, without reservation, all over her insides.

A few moments later, still leaning into each other, they both caught their breath, and then they uncoupled. He could actually hear a dollop of his semen hit the kitchen floor between his feet.

She scooted off the countertop and straightened her sundress, and then reached into a drawer, in this little kitchen that she now seemed to know as well as he did, and pulled out a couple of dishtowels. He turned around and leaned back against the countertop, and watched in astonishment as she wet one towel in the sink, and then knelt in front of him and gently washed their sticky fluids off his now-flaccid but still heavy phallus, and the surrounding pubic hair. Then she dried him with the other towel, and planted a gentle, reverent kiss on his shaft.

"Finish those drinks," she said, standing up again. "You may want to get some fresh ice."

John pulled up his pants and dutifully finished mixing the two cocktails. Then he carried them into the living area, where Michelle was sitting on one bent leg on the sofa. He handed her a glass and took a seat on the other end of the couch.

They clinked glasses... to their successful date? To their next venture?... and she rested her elbow on the back of the sofa, and then her head on her hand, and looked at him. Her face, and the flesh above her breasts, were still flushed, and her hair was disheveled, from where he had clenched it by the fistful five minutes ago at the moment that he had erupted inside her. But her eyes were sparkling with yet more mischief. She had never been more beautiful.

Yes, she was beautiful, and wicked smart, and more than a little diabolical. He had never doubted why his son had fallen in love with her; and oddly enough, this weekend, she had convinced him that she was unquestionably in love with his son. The two of them just had their very own, extremely unusual mutual understanding about where sex fit into their relationship. She had been hinting to him that she had some ideas about how to engage him, John, more proactively in her gamesmanship with her husband. And, God help him, he was curious, and likely willing to follow her lead.

"So..." she began, pausing for another sip of gin and tonic.

"So?"

"So... I've been thinking... it's time for me to tell Ryan... I want to have a baby."