Serendipity 02: Janey's Other Story

II. Janey's Other Story

I'd told Dad about coming back to the dorm and finding Lauren in bed with her dad, and how she explained it to me, and then how she and her dad were worried about my mental state, and how they thought that having a relationship with my dad like she and her dad had might be right for me, too.

What I didn't tell him was what happened after that.

"The bottom line is, you two need each other the way that Dad and I needed each other."

Just then, her dad came out of the bathroom -- not naked, the way I had last seen him, but wearing some kind of robe-thing. Then I recognized it. It was a robe, but definitely not his. It was Lauren's fluffy cotton terry robe that she usually keeps hanging in the bathroom. On her dad, it was tight in the shoulders, short in the arms, and barely closed around him -- a far cry from the way it fit Lauren's slim body. But it closed, and the belt secured it, barely, and despite the comical look, he was completely modest and proper. At least, for the situation. He sat down on the bed beside Lauren.

I responded instantly, "You mean me and my dad?! No way! I couldn't do that! That's crazy! I couldn't ever ..." I went on, "How would I even do that?"

And it hit me -- I had just crossed that line, from "I couldn't do that!" to "How would I do that?"

And Lauren picked up on this immediately. "I think I understand. That even if this is something you want to do -- and I can see it, Janey, this is sounding like something you do want for your life -- how do you make that move to ... to make it happen? Right?"

I thought. And thought. And as usual, Lauren had seen it. That this made sense to me -- certainly not in my brain -- in by brain it was still crazy and wrong and impossible, and maybe even a little bit sick. But in my feelings, it started to feel like something that I was, I don't know, that there was a longing for. But even if that was true, how ...? As a practical thing -- how do you just start having sex with your father?

But Lauren was already with me and, as it turned out, a step or two ahead. She held her father's hand and said, "Jane, Dad and I talked about this several times, and how -- odd -- it might be for you to start up with your dad, and if there was any way it could be made less weird, and we think we've come up with an idea that might make it less scary for you. We thought ..." she looked at her father a moment and then back at me, "We thought that it might be easier for you if your first father wasn't your own father."

I sat there, not comprehending what they were saying. And as they sat there, holding hands and looking softly at me, it started to dawn on me. "Are you ... "

They looked at each other again, trying to decide who it was best coming from. And Lauren took my hand and said, "We thought that if your first time was with my dad, then it wouldn't be so strange or ... foreign ... when you and your father do it."

My throat went completely dry then, but I managed to rasp out, "Am I getting this right -- you're saying that you want to ... loan me your father? To help me get used to the idea of ... sex with my father?"

Her dad, still holding hands with Lauren, said, "Yes, Jane. We both know this is an unusual idea, to say the least. But Lauren thought that maybe, if your first time was with someone who wasn't your dad, but who was like your dad, that it might be easier -- seem less strange ..."

Lauren continued, "Janey, You know Dad, and he knows you, and it seems like you like him, and I know he won't hurt you or do anything to make it less than perfect." Then she smiled and added, "Plus, he's easy on the eyes ...," she paused, "... and he's a pretty good lay." She smiled a little more, and her dad -- I swear, he actually blushed a little. "So, yes -- I want to 'loan' you my dad if it would help you with your dad."

I didn't know what to say. "I don't know what to say. I mean, I understand what you're saying, and it makes sense, on one level. And yes, your dad is a beautiful person and I'm sure that sex with him would be wonderful, ... but ... are you certain? I mean, that you'd be okay with that?"

Lauren replied, "Yes, we've talked about it a lot, and we're both okay with it ... if you are." Then she added, with a smirky smile, "But if this works out the way we're hoping, ... you owe me."

Then I said the most intelligent thing under the circumstances. "Let me think about it ..." And with that, I let go of Lauren's hand and left them sitting there together on the bed as I walked, in a bit of a daze, into my room.

And so, still in my daze, I went through the motions of slipping out of my library clothes, putting on my robe, going to the bathroom, peeing, washing, brushing my teeth. Then I sat there on the toilet seat, thinking. I don't know how long it was, but then I got up, washed several 'areas' again, and rinsed my teeth with a cinnamon-flavored mouthwash. Then I went back to my bedroom, exchanged my robe for a pull-over sleep shirt, dabbed the slightest bit of a mild cologne on my neck, breasts, and in my crotch. Then I had one more thought, and I picked up the little plastic bottle of lube and placed it conveniently on the table by my bed.

I turned out the lights and slid into my bed. And then I waited, to either talk myself into this or talk myself out of it. Then I got up and went to my door and said, "Lauren -- could you ask Paul to come to my room?" I hoped I'd said it loud enough -- I was so uncertain about this whole thing.

I went back and into my bed, this time sliding farther in -- to make room for another body. And now my heart was racing and pounding as I waited -- it couldn't have been more than 15 seconds, but felt like forever. Then Lauren's dad knocked gently on the door frame and entered the room. I was so afraid that I'd chicken-out and lose this chance forever that I immediately held the sheet up for him with my left arm so he could slide right in without stopping, because I was afraid of what would happen if anything stopped for even one moment.

He got in, settled on his side with his face next to my face, and he softly said, "Janey, this is for you. You take the lead, and I'll follow." He put his hand gently on the side of my face and kissed my forehead.

I felt warm and safe, and a bit 'loved.' I kissed him, tentatively, and he matched my kiss. We just started to hug and kiss, and then Paul reached down and placed his hand on my hip and left it there while we kissed.

Feeling a little more sure, I took his hand and placed it on my chest (I was still afraid of being "too forward"). But he got the idea and moved his hand to cover one breast and just began gently squeezing and massaging it and playing -- again gently -- with the nipple.

After he was sure that I was good with this, he slid his hand down to my thigh again, but this time he caught the hem of my sleep shirt and slid it up, far enough that most of the breast that he'd been touching was now exposed. Holding the shirt up, he started to kiss my boob, and then opened his mouth and gently enclosed the nipple with his lips and began to flick it with his tongue. It felt good -- a kind of tingling that I hadn't felt in over a year. And it was then that I knew, without any doubt -- this man in my bed and I were going to fuck.

I pushed him away slightly so I could slide my arm down and discovered he was still wearing the soft cotton boxers he had on when he came to my room. I pushed down the waistband and reached in the front of his boxers to grasp his penis. Okay, I think that if we're not already past that point, we soon will be. His COCK. And it felt like a nice one. Smooth, circumcised, and a good handful. It wasn't one of those monster cocks that sound so good in the pornos but in real life are too big to be practical. I haven't had a lot of guys -- actually, only three -- and I've never had a guy whose cock would qualify as "giant." Girlfriends who have say that they're uncomfortable, and worse, the guys who have them tend to use their gifts more like clubs than like precision instruments. Maybe sometime, after I've had a lot of sex, I'll want to experience a 9- or 10-incher, but -- no hurry.

Nope, Paul's cock felt like a "versatile" cock -- a cock that was the right size to be adapted to multiple uses, if you catch my meaning (you girls know what I'm talking about!).

Back to Paul. He grew nicely in my hand, showing that, despite the unusual situation, he would be 'up to the occasion.' He just lay there while I lowered my head and took the head of his cock into my mouth and -- savored it. He smelled just right. He smelled clean and male. Not perfume-y from some body wash, and not like soap. Maybe he had just bathed himself carefully in warm water, so the man smell was still there, but nothing else. I began to lick the crown, and then began sliding down the shaft. And I realized how much I have missed this -- the whole experience of having a man in my mouth. It's a very intimate thing, a way of being very close to another person. It's not even that it gets a guy hard so we can fuck -- it's just a sense of closeness to a man.

I slid one hand up to his chest to run my fingers through the fine curly hairs. I used the other to grab his cock at the base as I moved my head and mouth up and down its length. I felt his hand on my head, but it wasn't to force my mouth down or anything. He just touched my hair and stroked it gently -- lovingly. When I had him all the way in my mouth, with my face and nose buried in his pubic hair, I sensed another aroma in addition to the wonderful male smell. It was strangely familiar -- and then I had it! It was the smell of Lauren's juices. They still lingered in his hair even after he had washed himself. This was so deliciously naughty -- smelling his own daughter -- my best friend -- on the cock I was sucking!

Meanwhile, I was really enjoying -- yes, enjoying -- loving his cock, moving my tongue around the soft head, then up and down its length, and around the head again. Then my tongue encountered the unmistakable salty taste of his pre-cum. I love the taste -- because it's sexy on its own, and because it a signal of what's about to happen soon. I licked his pee-hole to get more of the sexy taste.

When I paused and lifted my head, he sat up, and with my help, slipped my nightshirt up and over my head and off my arms. Then he lay me down and now that my body was fully exposed, he kissed my lips and we made some gentle tongue play before he began to work his lips down my body, spending not too long, but just enough time at each place -- my neck, the tops of my boobs, my nipples, down my tummy -- with a complimentary lick to my belly-button -- and then lower, and I got that wonderful feeling that I get when I know my pussy is about to be eaten.

He didn't disappoint. With his face a few inches away, he first licked in the creases between my legs and my body, then up the sides of my cunt lips, then he breathed warm air onto my pussy. Even though I hadn't been with a guy for a long time, I keep myself shaved because that makes it easier to keep clean. And right now I was really glad I did, because it made his warm breath that much more stimulating on my bare pussy. And then I felt his tongue on the side of my clit, then around to the other side, then on the tip, before wrapping my entire clit in his lips and sucking gently while moving his tongue across the tip.

I won't even try to describe all the wonderful things he did to me. When I'm reading porn, I find all the excruciatingly detailed descriptions of exactly how the woman got eaten to be just plain boring (unless, of course, you're the woman being eaten!). Instead, I'll just say that it's wonderful to have your pussy licked and loved by someone whose purpose is not to get you hungry for "the main event," but to bring you pleasure, and because he truly enjoys a woman's taste and textures -- and also because it's so intimate ... and nasty.

And then it happened -- my first "Big-O" in many months that did not come from my fingers or a dildo or a dildo-substitute. After the waves stopped rolling over me, I just lay there with my hands gently holding the sides of his head while he continued to give my pussy occasional "cool down" licks and kisses.

But that was just the start. I pulled him up so I could kiss him and thank him for what he had just done. In the process, I got a good taste of what he had been tasting for the past ten minutes, and it was pretty hot. Then I rolled us over and straddled him and my hand lined up his cock with my cunt. He said, "Wait a minute," and struggled to roll over a quarter turn and fumbled for something on the bedside table. Then I heard the unmistakable (in this situation) sound of a foil packet tearing open, and he said, "We'd better put this on first."

I put my hand over his to stop him, and said, "I don't -- we don't -- have to worry about that -- I stayed on the pill." And the instant I said "we don't," I realized that that was maybe the most intimate moment of the whole night. And I knew that I loved this sweet, wonderful man, who my best friend had given me to help bring happiness to my life, and I knew that I would cherish this memory for the rest of my life.

What I did do was reach over to the night table and discreetly pick up the little lube bottle that I had placed there, popped the cap, and squirted a generous amount into my cupped fingers and spread it liberally on my pussy and a few inches into my cunt. Then, just because I wanted to, I smeared the remaining mixture of lube and my pussy juices around the head of his cock. Then I repositioned myself and lowered my pussy steadily onto his firm cock.

Turns out the lube wasn't really necessary, 'cause he slid right in, with just enough resistance to make me feel like I was being entered. My pussy came to rest on his pubic bone, and I just sat there for a full minute, savoring the wonderful feeling of having a man inside me. Not a cock. A man. And I was right about that cock -- it was just the right size to give me that perfect feeling of fullness.

But then my body took over and I just started riding up and down -- more back-and-forth, really -- on his beautiful cock. Once I had found my rhythm, he reached up and put his hands on my breasts -- my tits -- and gently squeezed and massaged them. I put my hands over his and squeezed them more tightly, and moved his thumbs and forefingers around my nipples and kept squeezing them together until he got the idea that he was allowed to go a little crazy with my tits. He got the message. I leaned down so one tit was positioned right over his mouth, with the nipple just touching his lips. Then I dragged the nipple back and forth across his lips, until he finally opened his mouth and took the nipple, and then some of my tit, into his mouth and began sucking and chewing and biting and sucking and chewing . . . , and I said, "Oh, yeah, Paul -- suck my tits while you're fucking me." And I returned my attention to fucking his cock, on the way to getting myself off.

Paul's lips, teeth, and hands continued their work on my tits, and I felt the little spasms that usually tell me that the big spasms are not far away. I moved my finger down to my clit to give myself that final push, and just as it started to come on me, I bent down and took Paul's head and pulled it up from my chest and mashed my face against his and licked and sucked like crazy while my cunt broke into a wonderful orgasm that gave me four or five jolts before I started coming down. I turned my head to one side and let it lay on his chest, and Paul and I just held each other.

I don't know how long we lay like that, but I know I felt so happy that some tears trickled down my face. And Paul saw them, and he kissed my forehead, and then my eyelids, and then my tears. And Paul -- wonderful Paul -- didn't ask me what was wrong. He knew that nothing was wrong at all, that instead, everything was just right.

Another thing that was perfect was when I realized that Paul -- wonderful Paul -- was still hard as a rock inside my pussy. I was a 19-year old woman who'd just enjoyed wonderful sex for the first time in more than a year, and I was nowhere close to being done! I wrapped my arms around him and, with a few adjustments and grunts, rolled us over so he was on top of me. Then I said, "Now you do me -- fuck me like a man fucks a woman!"

What I really wanted to say was "Pound the shit out of my hot cunt, you fucker," but I thought that might compromise my role tonight as Daddy's precious little princess. I was afraid he might be too gentle, but he picked up on my change of tone and began to pound the shit out of my hot cunt. I grabbed his head and we kissed and tongue-wrestled and bit each other's lips and cheeks and chins and generally fucked like minks.

But I wanted it even wilder, more intense. With little planning, I pulled my thighs way back, lifted my ass, and grabbed his cock and directed it straight into my dripping asshole. We were both so wet that it slid right in the tight passage (remember -- versatile cock!) and I told him what I wanted -- "Shoot your filthy jizz up my dirty asshole," I hissed.

Oops! -- guess I just blew the "Daddy's little princess" thing, didn't I?

But then he surprised and delighted me when he smiled and said, "I've been waiting for that." And he proceeded to do just what I asked. While that perfect prick was pounding my asshole, I reached down into the space between us and started rubbing my clit frantically. Between the slippery friction of his cock sliding in and out of my anus and the frantic job my finger was doing on my clit, it was just a few minutes before my body rocked with explosions. And because he had not cum all night, he burst and let loose a giant flood of his "filthy jizz up my dirty asshole." I just lay there, exhausted, satiated, and with an ass full of his sex juice, feeling ... with a feeling better than I ever could have imagined in my entire life.

We carefully managed to roll onto our sides without him slipping out of my ass. Then, later, as we were snuggling in and ready to fall off to sleep, Paul put his hand on my arm, kissed my hair, and said, "Happy Father's Day, Jane."

I woke up -- I guess it was a little after 4 a.m. -- and Paul was no longer there in bed with me. Without putting anything on, I walked quietly to Lauren's room. Her door was mostly open and I looked in to see her and her dad, spooned together, my -- our -- dried juices still visible on his thighs, and his arm draped over Lauren. They looked like two puppies asleep in a blanket. And I thought, "I want that."

I went over to the bed and snuggled in next to Lauren -- easy, because she is five inches taller than me. No one said anything, but then I felt Lauren lift her dad's arm and place it so it was over my shoulder, too.

And I thought, "I want this."

********

As I told this to Dad, I left out a lot -- most of the graphic details about the actual sex, and the sounds, and my thoughts, and the things that we said to each other. Also, I didn't add my observation that Lauren's dad is a really good fuck -- thought that might fall into the category of "too much information."

And I watched Dad and waited for his reaction.

********

"HE WHAT?"

"That bastard. That son-of-a-bitch! Fucking his daughter's friend! While his own daughter is in the next room!" I paused a moment. I was trying to think of even more accusations to make, and considering threats of actual physical violence.

"How could he ever think he could do that to my little girl and get away with it? Did he force you? If he forced you, I'm going to report it to the University authorities!"