The Ballad of John and Al Ch. 06

J.R. shook his head. Al was just too much.

"You're a master of getting girls to fuck their fathers-in-law."

"Seems to be my superpower."

"Definitely use it for evil."

***

Just a couple of days ago.

David scooted up against the headboard as Kara came back into the room carrying two cups of coffee. Still stark naked, as he had instructed. Except for the little engagement ring on her left hand.

He was glad he had looked her up again.

His son did have a type. He thought that Kara was more perky-cute, and Allison was more of a classic beach-bunny beauty, but they both had voluptuous little bodies that were built to fuck. And they were both, apparently, vixens.

Kara was 33 now. And engaged. Which seemed to only heighten the enthusiasm with which she had welcomed him back into her bed.

Today, he had renewed his acquaintance with John's high school sweetheart, the first pussy his son ever had. And, if things went as he thought they would, in a couple of days he would be sampling the pussy of John's current girl. His fiancé.

The symmetry pleased him.

And the whole situation was arousing him again.

And Kara was about to be the beneficiary of that arousal, again.

***

Right now.

John slowly closed his laptop, his hand shaking and his entire body trembling in stunned confusion.

Al was out for her morning run, as was her routine. His dad was presumably still asleep in the adjoining guest room.

He had just read Rimbaud's latest story on Literotica, and it had knocked the wind out of him. When he first started it, he thought he knew what he was reading. He knew that Al had read Rimbaud's series about a woman cuckolding her husband with his own father, and loved it; she had been teasing him about the idea relentlessly ever since, as she continued to deny him sex and only give him handjobs, as part of her promised game. So she had obviously prompted Rimbaud to write a story about her with his father, although the characters were unnamed in the opening paragraphs of the story.

But it turned out that, while the man in the story was in fact his father, the woman was not Al. It was his high school girlfriend, Kara. He had not expected that.

Nor had he expected to read that Al and his dad had been carrying on a way-more-than-flirtatious texting campaign for the past few weeks, which Al had been sharing with their erotica-writing pen pal.

Or that his dad had not only taken his former sweetheart to bed, but that he had made something of a fetish around seducing young women in general, and particularly those who John had dated. And that kink had included bedding the woman his son was planning to marry.

Or that there was this secret society of young women who were systematically fucking all their current and former boyfriend's fathers, comparing notes, determining whether late baby boomers or early Gen-X dads made the best fuckbuddies. And that his fiancé was a member of that sorority.

So now he wasn't sure what to believe.

Of course, he was reading a story by a known writer of fiction. Who had been chatting with his fiancé, who was a world-class tease. This whole thing could have been a fantasy, every bit of it, concocted either by J.R. or by Al or by both of them.

He still wasn't even sure that Al had actually cuckolded him. Oh, she had told him she had; she had been denying him sex for a month now, teasing him relentlessly with alternating tales of the arrogant, entitled neighbor who was sneering at him behind his back, or of fantasies of wrapping her legs around his father.

She had showed him a couple of pictures; exceedingly, shockingly graphic pictures, that he had believed was her ... her, with another man's semen dripping down between her breasts or out of her swollen pussy. But there was room for doubt. Photoshop, and all that. And in fact, she had not yet confronted him with what he had expected, with nauseating certainty, would have been the proof of her infidelity. She had not fed him a cream pie. He shuddered at the coarse phrase. The idea of lowering his face between her thighs and driving his tongue between her labia to scoop up the foul-tasting and -textured residue of another man's triumphant ejaculation inside of her was revolting to him; but he knew he would be powerless to resist. But it hadn't happened. Was that because she was showering after every encounter before returning to him? Or because the entire scenario was a ruse?

So maybe everything was a fantasy, especially this story that he had just read.

Or maybe it was completely true.

His dad had been here since Tuesday morning. The three of them had spent evenings together, watching basketball and going out to dinner. But during the days John had gone to class and to work, and David and Al had spent the day sightseeing.

Sightseeing, right. He could only imagine what sights his dad had focused on yesterday.

Had they ever even left the apartment, the bed in the guest room? Or had they spent the day here in the bed he shared with Al, and then quickly changed the sheets at the end of the day?

He still couldn't believe it, even after everything that Al had done with and to and for him in the past month. Al, he had come to realize (much to his delight up until now), was capable of just about anything. Especially if she had been conspiring with her diabolical new pen-pal, Rimbaud. But, his own dad? He never would have imagined it. But then, he never would have imagined that his dad would have hit on, and then bedded, his high school girlfriend, and apparently other former lovers as well. And then come to visit him and his fiancé, and put his sixty-six-year-old penis up inside her, his own son's partner, right behind his own son's back.

Al would be back from her morning run any minute. He could hear his dad stirring now in the guest room. He needed to get up, get breakfast, and get about his day. In a few minutes he would be facing his fiancé and his father, armed with no new knowledge but a million new questions and doubts. Would their faces betray the secrets they were concealing from him?

Should he pull Al aside and ask her to come clean, use his safe word?

Or should he bite his tongue and head off to school and leave his fiancé and his father to their own devices?

He looked down to where his painfully erect cock was bobbing against his stomach. God. He knew what he really wanted.