Prom Night Ch. 01

I said, "I can't believe we'll have to relive this. Mr. Canseco, would you hold me please? I could use it right now."

"Of course, Josie."

Mr. Canseco spread his legs. I moved between them, sliding back until my body rested on his chest. Pulling a favorite comforter over the two of us, I dropped my head, pecked him on the lips. He wrapped his arms around me. He had nice muscular arms and I pulled them tight, resting them on my braless breasts. Could Mr. Canseco feel their heat through my top's thin fabric?

Cherokee, already sitting between Daddy's legs, also pulled a comforter over the two of them. Daddy wrapped his arms around her. Could he possibly miss the heat emanating from those breasts?

Running her hand down Daddy's leg Cherokee said, "I guess the Chief will want to know what we were doing in the middle of nowhere on prom night."

"Yes."

Cherokee, hesitation in her voice: "Do we have to tell her everything?"

"Is there something you're concerned about?"

Looking at me Cherokee asked, "Is it okay babe?"

I wasn't sure where Cherokee was going with this, but I knew the answer she wanted. In a serious tone I said, "Yes, go ahead Cherokee."

"Okay, do you guys want to know the truth, the whole truth? You might not like it. You have to remember, we're your daughters, but we're also young women. You've got to promise you won't get mad."

Mr. Canseco said, "We promise. Whatever it is Eric and I can handle it."

Cherokee continued: "How did we end up in the middle of nowhere? Well, to really understand..., I mean to start at the beginning..., uhhh...."

Daddy, voice comforting and supportive: "It's okay Cherokee, you're with friends, just say the words, no one here will judge you, we love you," and started to massage her neck and shoulders.

Dropping her head forward Cherokee let out a long sigh. "That's right, just like that, you know exactly what I need, feels so good. You have such strong hands."

Mr. Canseco started rubbing my neck.

After a couple indolent minutes Cherokee kissed Daddy's cheek. "That was wonderful. Thank you Eric. It's hard to say, "no," to someone who makes you feel this good. Okay, I'll just say it: Josie and I are virgins. I know. Considering how popular and charming and beautiful we are it seems impossible, but it's true."

I intertwined my fingers with Mr. Canseco's, squeezed.

"Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with us. We have all the normal urges and we've had offers. The problem has been who. Wait on Mr. Right and our wedding night? C'mon this is the twenty-first century. A guy from high school? We've known them too long and girlfriends say they don't know what their doing; you spend all your time reassuring them and then it hurts. We met some guys on campus, but that didn't work out. Details later. Then the Oxleys show up. Not the brightest guys you're ever going to meet, but they're legends: older, gorgeous, know how to dress, and have a certain reputation. Two eighteen year old girls who've been looking for a good time figure karma's finally on their side. You know the rest. Your daughters line them up for prom dates -- and what could be more romantic than doing it on prom night. We figure we'll steal the show, skip the post-prom parties, go to their hotel, and no more virgin daughters.

"Instead, after months of waiting and mounting sexual frustration our prom dates show up late, half-drunk, in a dirty limousine driven by a pervert. At the prom they drink themselves into insensibility, the nice hotel turns out to be a flea bag one town over, and when we tell the driver to take us home he feigns car trouble, pulls over, and starts pawing Josie and me. And then, happily luckily miraculously, you two studs appear and save the day.

Cherokee dropped her head onto my dad's shoulder. Her long brown hair fanned out against his body. "The highlights of the evening: drinking champagne with you guys, being rescued by you guys, sitting here with you guys."

She kissed daddy again, this time on the lips. "We should have skipped the prom and spent the night cuddling with our favorite men."

Watching Cherokee kiss my father set off fireworks in my sex. I leaned back, turned my head, tightened my grip on his thigh, kissed Mr. Canseco's lips. No tongue, more than a peck.

"So guys, Josie and I want you to be our first. You two got it all: good-looking, experienced, we trust you, we love you and know you love us. Daddy, do you really want my first time to be with the next version of the Oxley's I stumble into? Who better to introduce me to sex than your best and oldest friends?"

Mr. Canseco said, "Look girls, its been a long...," stopping when my hand reached his dick. It was hard.

My father finished the thought. "A lot has happened tonight, you guys will feel differently tomorrow."

Resting my hand on Mr. Canseco's penis through his pants I said, "No Daddy, I won't, we won't. Cherokee and I have spent a year looking for the right guys and guess what, they were here all along. And don't pretend you don't think Cherokee's hot."

Looking directly into her dad's eyes, Cherokee said, "Daddy, I love Josie. She's my sister, my best friend. I want what's best for her. Let her first experience be with you, a man who will treat her right, who cares about her."

Forcing my hand inside his belt I added, "Y'know, I've always sort of had a crush on you Mr. Canseco."

With my fingers worming their way under the band of his boxers Mr. Canseco surrendered. Curling his arm around my back he looked at Daddy. "Well, old friend, they've got a point. Do we really want them with lightweights who don't know what they're doing and don't care about them. They deserve better on their prom night and I tonight they certainly earned it."

Daddy was quiet. Would he go along with this? Then he smiled and Cherokee pushed the blanket that had been covering them to the floor. She was working her hand inside his pants.

* * * * *

I led Mr. Canseco upstairs to the guest bedroom, grateful that Daddy required me to keep it clean, re-make the bed every few weeks, and insisted on high-end Egyptian cotton sheets for our guests.

I was nervous. When I'd imagined this moment, it was with a boy, not a man like Mr. Canseco. He was experienced; I'd never done it before. Who goes first? What do you do next? I wasn't sure. What if I wasn't any good at it? Next to my dad, Mr. Canseco was the most important adult in my life, closer to me than anyone but Daddy. What if I didn't please him?

Mr. Canseco, seeing the wheels turning in my head, said, "You okay Josie?"

Without much conviction I said, "Think so, I'm just a little nervous, I guess."

"It's your first time, you're supposed to be nervous. Let me help. Turn around."

I did and he resumed the neck and shoulder rub he started downstairs. I watched our reflection in a mirror. His face was screwed in concentration as his masterful hands worked the muscles of my neck and shoulders.

"You're a beautiful woman, Josie. Tonight is going to be special. We'll take our time. It's a lot more fun that way. I just hope I don't disappoint. Focus on my hands."

That this sexy older man worried about disappointing me was absurd. I wanted to tell him, but couldn't find the words. His hands on my neck, tension flowing from my body; I couldn't concentrate.

He ran his thumb along the crease between my scalp and neck. Goose bumps erupted on my skin. I dropped my head forward, inviting him to do it again. He did. It felt even better.

"You like?"

Raising my head, shaking my hair back into place, I said, "Very much Mr. Canseco."

"Maybe it's time you called me Robert."

"I'll try, its hard."

His started working the front of my shoulders. While we both knew where he was heading, Mr. Canseco took his time, giving me an amazing massage on the way there. When he reached my tank top his warm hands slid underneath and covered my breasts; he squeezed, gently steadily. I leaned back, letting him support my weight.

"Feels so nice."

I knew my breasts were sensitive, but never imagined they could feel like this. There is no other word for it; Mr. Canseco made love to my breasts. Knowing hands kneaded, nimble fingers danced, rough thumbs swept over my skin. He told me how beautiful they were, how warm they were, how much he enjoyed touching them.

He seemed content to play with them all night long and while that would be fabulous, I lacked his patience. Pulling my tube top over my head, I twisted around, my inflamed breasts and nipples sliding on his smooth cotton shirt, and threw my arms around his neck. His eyes focused on mine and I knew that Mr. Canseco, Cherokee's dad, was going to kiss me. Did it feel weird? For about a second, but could this guy kiss. Our warm wet lips came together, molded into, slid on each other. I teased his lips with the tip of my tongue, retreated. His tongue -- bold and strong and sweet -- followed mine, explored, claimed possession of my mouth. We kissed again, then again, our tongues and lips danced.

Nervous was no longer an issue. Throw me onto the bed, rip off my shorts, fuck me til the sun comes up.

Mr. Canseco had other plans. Ending our kiss he cupped my butt, held me to him. I dropped my forehead to his chest. I was panting.

"Josie, can you give me a hand getting these clothes off. Then we can take a shower."

Shower, what shower?

Mr. Canseco went on. "After a day like today there's nothing better than a long hot shower with a beautiful woman to wash away the grime. I'm going to scrub every inch of your magnificent body. After all, this is as new for me as it is for you. We have all night, no need to rush."

Well, when he put it that way, how could I say no. I'd spot cleaned when we got home, but I still felt the evening's muck on my skin. And I wouldn't want Mr. Canseco to think I was frantic, or desperate, happy to settle for, "Wham bam, thank you ma'am," my first time. And there was something else, I liked it when Mr. Canseco was in control.

Saying, "Yes sir," I ran my hands, palms flat on his chest, and started on the buttons of his shirt. It wasn't always easy, the buttons were small and my hands shook with lust, but I got them all, pulled the shirt and undershirt off him, pressed my face to his chest. His sprinkling of chest hair, like the hair on his head, was black. They tickled my nose. He smelled like a man.

He sat on the edge of the bed. I knelt, untied his shoes, slipped them and his socks from his feet.

Only his pants were left. Did I need permission to proceed? Maybe not, but I wanted it anyway. Asking for permission was sexy; getting it sexier. Touching his crotch through his pants I said, "May I?"

"Yes Josie, that would be wonderful."

I pressed my palm to the front of his pants, moved it up the length of his erection, did it again. A low moan escaped his lips. Tracing the outline of his penis with a finger, I looked up, waiting to be told what to do.

Mr. Canseco understood. "Undo my pants Josie, then pull down the zipper."

I unhooked the latch on his pants, worked the zipper down, pulled his pants to his knees. They slid down his legs, puddling at his ankles. I stopped, looked up at him.

"Take it out Josie. I hope it doesn't disappoint."

I pulled his underpants forward, over his bulge, and down. There it was, bobbing back and forth. The crown was purple, the shaft brown and laced with bright pulsating veins, and his ball sac symmetrical.

"Go ahead Josie."

I wrapped my fingers around the shaft.

"It doesn't disappoint sir."

* * * * *

I was in the shower; Mr. Canseco, standing behind me, was massaging my scalp with his strong fingers. He'd been right. As he worked the shampoo into my hair, as the hot water poured over my body, I felt the day's muck flow down the drain.

He brought his mouth to my ear. "Tonight Josie you'll feel things you've never imagined I'm going to make your body sing. By the time we're done you'll be a woman, all woman."

He finished my hair, closed his teeth on my ear lobe, tugged, then started working generous dollops of a favorite body-wash into my skin. Starting with my forehead he worked down: face, neck, shoulders, armpits, back. I'd never showered with a man before; I liked it. There was something sensual, something indulgent, about letting a man clean you.

He kissed the side of my head, dragged a thumb across my lips. My tongue flicked out; he slid his thumb into my mouth. I sucked on it, licked it, kissed it when it left. His mouth moved to my neck, where he nibbled and nipped the sensitive flesh. Even in this hot shower I felt chills run down my body.

I leaned back into him, closed my eyes. His soapy hands roamed my torso in long unhurried sweeps. His touch, light and provocative, left me craving more. When his pinkies grazed my nipples, my knees buckled. His hands grew firmer, more aggressive.

"Uunnnnnnhhhhhh, Mr. Canseco."

He caught my nipples with index and middle fingers, rolled them back and forth, pinched them, did it again, harder this time.

"Oh fuck yes, uuunnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhh."

I was ready to end the shower and head for the bedroom, but Mr. Canseco knelt and worked the wash into my butt and down each leg.

"Turn around Josie."

I did. His face was level with my sex. Imagining his tongue wrapped around my clit, I grabbed his shoulders, and then I jumped and squealed. Mr. Canseco was sliding his pinky up my vulva. He brushed my clitoris.

"Mr. C, wow, wow, oooh, oh oh oh omigod, oh yes."

Hands soapy and slick, Mr. Canseco caressed the folds, curves, and crevices of my outer and inner vulvas, then stroked my vaginal lips.

"Oh yes yes yes."

He turned his attention to my clit. Never rushing, allowing me to savor each wicked moment, he circled it with his thumb, then, with me moaning for more, rolled his thumb back and forth on the nub's protective hood. I whimpered.

Capturing some of the cunt cream flowing from my vagina, Mr. Canseco next pulled aside the clitoral hood and rocked the thumb directly on the aching nub. My knees buckled and leaning forward, I held on to Mr. Canseco's shoulders. Taking advantage of my spread legs, Mr. Canseco scrubbed my perineum, my anus, slipped a finger tip inside. He wiggled the finger. My anal muscles clenched.

"Ooooohhhh."

He returned to my clit, circled it with his thumb, and in a voice clear, calm, and certain, said, "Josie I want you to masturbate, stroke your clit, show me how."

It was insane... and so dirty. I mean, of course I played with myself -- I'd done it a thousand times -- but never for an audience or on demand. The thought of doing it was crazy, and so sexy.

Pressing my middle and index fingers together, I strummed them over my clit.

"Like this Mr. Canseco?"

"Just like that. Does masturbating in front of me turn you on Josie?"

"Unnhh, yes sir."

Saying, "You're a naughty girl Josie," Mr. Canseco slipped a finger into my vagina: joint, knuckle, all the way. He wiggled it, shook it, moved it around.

"Uunnhhhh."

Another finger joined it; two moved as easily as one. It was not a surprise. I was a virgin, but I'd known a dildo or two and busted my hymen a long time ago.

As he twisted the fingers in my cunt, his thumb joined my fingers stroking my clit. I pushed my rump into his hand, squeezed my breasts and thumbed my nipples. My cunt spasmed, clamping the walls of my vagina on his fingers, trying to pull them deeper inside.

"Uuunnnnhhhh."

And then, I was coming. It never happened this quickly, but I was frigging coming; a short sharp hard orgasm that shook my body and curled my toes. Mr. Canseco stood and I leaned into him, sucking in air. As the orgasm subsided he reached past me and turned off the shower.

He kissed my neck, nipped an ear lobe. "Josie, I can't describe how much I want you right now."

Damn. I'd just come, but I was ready for more.

Mr. Canseco ran his hands through my hair, squeezing out the water, then used a towel to dry the rest of my body. No one had done that for me before.

Insisting that I return the courtesy, I meticulously inspected his wonderful body, dabbing up any recalcitrant drops of water. When done -- his hard tight butter required special attention -- I slipped my hand into his, kissed him.

As we entered the bedroom I said, "Y'know Mr. C, it was real nice sharing a shower with you. We need to do that again. It will help save water."

I did not give him the chance to respond. Instead, laughing in glee, I pushed him onto the bed and pounced. Holding his hands down I said, "Got you," and kissed him. Distracting me with a kiss, he escaped my grasp. We wrestled; hands explored, kiss followed kiss until, after a fierce struggle, he rolled me onto my back, pinning me to the bed. He nipped my neck, licked my breasts: his tongue was rough and soft and wet and fricking enormous. His dick, hot and hard, bumped against my chest.

He kissed down my body, across my toned torso and abdomen, stopped at my sex. I was glad I'd shaved.

"Fuck me Mr. Canseco."

"Y'know Josie, we're about to become lovers. You can call me Robert.

I know sir, but it's sexier when I call you Mr. Canseco."

"Then please do. The only thing better than a stunning blonde is an aroused stunning blonde."

With mock disdain I said, "Men," then added, more seriously than I'd intended, "Do you really think I'm pretty Mr. Canseco?"

"Yes Josie, I do. You were a beautiful baby, you were a beautiful child, and you've become a beautiful, stunning, sexy, desirable young woman. Yes, I think you're pretty."

Playing coy I said, "Have you been checking me out Mr. C?"

Had Daddy been checking out Cherokee? I could see why, Cherokee was gorgeous, but still, that would be naughty of Daddy. Also kinda sexy.

Ignoring my question, Mr. Canseco blew a stream of hot air onto my clit -- every cell in my body felt that -- and his mouth covered my sex. A finger entered me. I howled my delight.

Mr. Canseco didn't toy, he didn't tease. He attacked my clit, sucked the nub into his mouth, freed it of its protective hood, battered it with tongue and lips, licked it with broad savage strokes of his tongue, over and over. I was a sand dune on a beach, without control, at the mercy of tides and winds. Mr. Canseco drove my overheated body to the brink of an orgasm, then switched his attention to my labia, vaginal lips, inner thighs, holding me on the precipice, then returned to my clit and do it again.

My arms and hands, with minds of their own, grabbed his head, pinned it to my sex, squeezed my breasts and nipples, twisted the bed sheets, did it all again.

He pushed a second finger into me. They explored and stroked, stretching the wet walls my vagina, generating waves of delight. And then he found my g-spot, pressed curled fingers to it, rubbed it, quick and smart.

Ohmigod. My lower body shook in rapid intense shudders; the physical and mental merged. All I could think about was his mouth tongue fingers. I arched my hips and grabbed his head, holding his mouth, his relentless mouth, to my dripping sex.

"Unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh, unh.

I couldn't take much more. I needed release. I needed release. I needed....

And then it was here. Lights dancing behind closed eyes, angels singing in my heads, my loins detonated. A tsunami of pleasure ripped through me, relieving the pressure that moments ago threatened to tear me apart. Screaming, "Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes," arms and legs flailing, bereft of control, I rode out the orgasm. And through it all Mr. Canseco and his amazing mouth never stopped. His tongue, active and wise, extended and intensified the orgasm, then gave birth to another, an intoxicating echo of its predecessor. Then a third. After that I could take no more.

Mr. Canseco lifted his head; his face was inundated with cunt cream. I giggled. Pleased by the wanton pleasure written on my face, he smiled and kissed me right above my vagina, then up my body, trapping a fold of skin between his teeth with each kiss. His warm moist breath felt good.