The Harvest Ch. 04

For once you find you're not alone when you wake.

Ashley jumps away from your bed with a yelp. You don't understand why until you notice you've startled upright like a man possessed.

"My bad, baby." You read your alarm clock and yawn. Not an act; you haven't gotten up this early since retiring the apron. "What's up?"

She's still wearing your black shirt from last night almost like a one-piece on her smaller body. You finally process what the flash of white fabric you'd caught as she stumbled backwards must be. Luckily, your sheets tented over your knees hide how hard you get.

"I need a ride to school," she says.

Deep breath. You compose yourself to not betray arousal. "Didn't your friend say she would pick you up?"

"Claire can be flaky like that."

"Not very smart of you then, Ash. What if I had something very important to do in, say, thirty minutes?"

You leave her in suspense for a second before reassuring with a smile you're not feeling. Your disappointment at her lack of responsibility is palpable. In those ten years Jessica's also managed to undo one of the few good things you'd left all your girls with.

"So can I get that ride?"

"What do we say when we ask someone a favor?"

She makes those begging puppy eyes that would always work back when you wanted nothing more than her happiness. "Please, Daddy."

You find that satisfactory and get out of bed slowly. You drag your sheets with deliberate intent down your chiseled chest, your steel-cut abdomen. This opportunity to expose your body to her is one you can't afford to pass up. With so much time to work out now you're even more fit than the late-twenties you she remembers. Her eyes stay locked on yours only after stealing a glance at your nearly nude form rising to tower over her. You wonder if she's noticed the outline of your sizable cock still not entirely flaccid hanging in its cloth prison.

"Pass me my shirt," you ask with the most unaffected air you can manage in the circumstances.

Her cheeks are tinged with color, her mouth a little agape. "But I'm not wearing anything under it."

"Not that one, baby."

You point out the Hawaiian print she's sitting on and laugh when she realizes. She turns to give you privacy as you dress, ending your little show. You don't mind.

She's already seen enough.

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The rest of your morning is a cold shower, or at least a substitute for the one you had no time to take. Over breakfast Ashley tells you that Jessica would pick her up after school, typically late but eventually. On the way there she tells you that with her belongings still in her old room she'll need until the weekend to smuggle them out through Claire. And when you park your car she tells you even her last month of high school tuition is yet unpaid for.

Upon second thought you realize the latter's a blessing in disguise, and seize the opportunity. There, in the parking lot of her tony high school a world removed from the inner-city meat grinder you'd clawed your way out of, you make Ashley a deal. You'll pay her remaining balance out of pocket once Jessica cuts her off; one grand is a week's entertainment to you now. All you ask of her in return is compliance with your house rules. Of course you know establishing your authority won't be so simple, but you now have her word to hold over her head should she test you later.

You're busy enjoying the view of her firm ass in that pretty yellow dress as she runs off to class when someone taps the window of your Mercedes.

"Who're you?" demands a fat balding man around your age. "Miss Thompson's boyfriend or her mother's?"

You force a polite smile. "I'd like to know who's asking and why."

"Her counselor. Frankly, she's a bad influence on the kids around her. At the rate her grades are slipping she won't even walk with the other seniors in three weeks."

That gives you pause. Ashley had never been an honor student like Alex, but always bright enough to get by with little effort.

"I'm a family friend just as concerned about her," you answer half-truthfully. "In your sessions has she said anything about her home life? Say, her mother?"

The counselor reddens when he realizes what he'd revealed in his curiosity. "That's confidential. Good day, sir."

After he waddles off with the proverbial tail between his legs, you take stock of the situation. Ashley's dire circumstances give you more leverage than you'd initially estimated. You silently amend your yet-undecided house rules, wondering how much you can tighten the leash before she'd rather return to the dysfunctional disaster you're now sure is Jessica's household.

A call interrupts your fantasies of control. You check ID before picking up.

"This better be work-related," you say. "If you're holding out for a life update you'll have to wait. Wouldn't want my head chef hot and bothered on the job."

"Guess what, boss?" Tammy's too excited for what should be a break from Tuesday morning food prep to be talking shop. "I finally talked Vika into doing it. We're free tonight if you are."

This time, you actually do drop your phone.

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That night you barely avoid rear-ending another driver en route to Tammy's Irvine townhouse. She's not there yet when you arrive. Running late from one of the chaotic dinner services you're glad to be rid of. You ring the doorbell without waiting for her.

Her wife is a ball of nervous energy letting you in. She's always had a thing for you, Tammy's little Latvian wallflower, but both of you know this time is different. With any other woman this aroused by your presence you'd be buried to the hilt inside one of her holes not moments after shutting the door. Tammy is the rare person whose wishes you respect enough to delay your gratification. Vika grabs glasses for the hundred-dollar bottle of cabernet you'd brought along, and the two of you drink in charged silence. Her command of the English language is tenuous at best when calm; you're too preoccupied undressing her with your eyes to make perfunctory small talk.

You don't need the alcohol to find her appealing. She's nearly the stereotype of Slavic beauty save for the way her blonde hair's shorn above the shoulder. Willowy and elegant, with an air of innocent grace despite having several years on most of your conquests. You'd snuck peeks under her loose cropped tops and pictured her long legs wrapped around you every time you'd invited them over for dinner.

The dam bursts when Tammy comes home still wearing the chef 's coat you had made to order for her. She gleams at you with wicked intent while pulling Vika into a savage kiss, one of the few acts you know is off-limits to you tonight. A few sips of wine does only so much to temper your arousal. The moment Tammy starts to slip the shirt off her blushing wife you're straining against the fabric of your jeans. You watch the coerced striptease at rapt attention, marveling at every delicious inch of pale skin you've only ever imagined before now revealed to you. Soon, only a lacy white teddy shields Vika from your hungry eyes.

"All you, babe," Tammy purrs in her ear.

Vika goes even redder, all the way down to her neck now. But just when you fear she'll back out before you can finally have her, she brings both trembling hands behind her back to undo the laces. The garment slackens and, with a final shimmy, falls away to reveal paradise.

Her small and firm breasts jut proudly. You savor the sight for a only a moment; you have to touch her. With a nod from Tammy you approach and run your hands up her shy arms, over her perfect collarbone and down her chest. You cup a breast, rolling a wide rosy nipple between your fingers. Vika gasps when you take the other into your mouth and suck, lick, even tug with your teeth. You kneel and part her crossed legs to get a better look at your ultimate prize for the night. The sight of her hairless pink pussy is mouthwatering, but Tammy stops you before you can get a taste and gets you back on your feet.

"She's got a little fantasy she wants to live out," says Tammy. "Stand still and enjoy."

As their guest you indulge them; you figure you'll like whatever it is anyways. Vika takes her turn eagerly, unbuttoning your collared shirt with all the wonder of a child unwrapping gifts. You take the offending clothing off while she peppers a trail of kisses down your abdomen. The act itself does nothing for you, but the implication of where this is going makes your hardness palpable again. She's the one kneeling for you now, unzipping your fly to let your hard cock spring free before her face.

Two pumps of her dainty hand later and finally, her tongue darts out to lick the bead of precum off of you. The feeling of that wet slip of muscle circling your sensitive tip makes you hiss. You can still smell the wine from her breath. Her pretty blue eyes look up at you seeking approval as she sucks an inch of you inside. Soon Vika starts to bob up and down the better half of your length. She's never learned how to pleasure a man, that much you can tell. Her lips are loose for your liking and her tongue doesn't know what to do other than massage the underside of your cock. You can't even feel the hot walls of her mouth wrapped around you properly.

After a minute or two Tammy walks over, either out of her impatience or sensing your own.

"Let her try to get you off like this," she whispers in your ear. "I'll let you fuck her face later."

That makes your arousal surge. Between your recent frustration, Vika's eagerness and the eroticism of this ménage a trois, your pleasure starts to build. Just when you're close to blowing, Tammy puts a firm hand on her wife's head and forces her to stop.

"What'd we agree to call Luce, babe?"

Vika pulls you out of her lips with a pop. "Daddy?"

Your sudden need is primal. Unlike your fucktoys she's too close to your age to sell the daddy-daughter fantasy; recent events help suspend your disbelief. You suppose she does loosely resemble how you'd imagined your middle child grown up. Vika's features are harsher and less symmetrical than young Kristen's face, but the golden hair and adorable naiveté are vaguely reminiscent.

You press your tip to her mouth and she takes you back in, sucking furiously. The roleplay combined with her flagrant desire to please you quickly brings your peak hurtling. The knotted ball of tension in your loins unfurls into spurts of your seed onto her waiting tongue.

"You know where to find us," Tammy says as she strokes Vika's hair and escorts her upstairs. "Don't be long."

You only need a minute to hydrate and recharge before marching to claim your prize.

Their bedroom is already a den of pure sex when you enter. Vika lies spread-eagle on their red sheets, moaning as she guides Tammy's bleached head buried between her thighs. Your arousal is par for the course; only the smell is new to you, not the sight. Your hedonist employee has already sent you videos of the two of them doing this and more, and Tammy's own hard body does little more for you than yours does for her. You suppose she's likely quite attractive from another perspective but your own line is drawn at fit, not butch.

You slip out of your pants and boxers to join them on their bed. Vika's pretty eyes go wide when you climb on and brandish the full length of your hard cock now free from the zipper's diminishing confines. Tammy had been her bisexual awakening, her late escape from a repressed youth wasted on gangly Baltic boys expecting a doormat to fuck. You're willing to bet your yearly income you're the biggest and best of the few men Vika has ever had.

Tammy takes her twisting tongue out of its second home. "Want a go down here, boss?"

You take her place with genuine anticipation. Your oral skills are a point of pride and though Vika isn't close enough to call a true lover, you're invested in her pleasure in a way you never were with your fucktoys. Her thick outer folds are a beautiful rosy shade when swollen by desire. She looks good enough to devour and devour you do. The first thing you taste is salt, then a hint of Tammy's smoky breath. Vika's frustrated whine when you swirl her hooded bud proves Tammy's drawn out the foreplay long enough, so you go for the kill and take near her entire pussy in, sucking while hammering a sensitive spot you've found inside.

Tammy kisses Vika as she comes undone by your tongue and bucks into you, flooding your mouth with her saline musk. You're so hard it takes Herculean willpower not to violate that unprotected slit along with Tammy's trust. You detest condoms, but to your friends you're a man of your word. One reluctant retreat for the contents of your pants pocket later and you return fully sheathed.

You part Vika's moist lips and enter her pussy for the first time. Whether or not you'd intended to be gentle at the start of the night, you simply don't have the restraint in you at this point. A heave of your hips spears your entire length into her velvet folds, bottoming out in one go. Your growl of appreciation is eclipsed by her scream. She's more than wet enough to avert true pain, but her recent orgasm combined with her relative inexperience taking cocks must be overstimulation to the point of delirium. You start to piston in and out, measured but deep. Just when you take a moment to slow down and make sure you haven't overdone it, Tammy joins the fray with a light slap on her wife's face.

"Wake up, slut," she barks. "What do you call him?"

"Daddy," comes the response between breathless moans. "Daddy!"

"Good girl."

Tammy grins, meeting you at eye level to straddle Vika's head. The erotic sight of your employee grinding her own pussy into her loving wife's gasping mouth is enough to strip what little self-control you have left and hurry your pace. You can't thoroughly explore the finer bumps and ridges of a woman's insides through latex so there was never much in it for you to go slow.

Emboldened, you take Vika as you would your college whores. Each rough thrust rattles the bedframe and makes her eyes roll into the back of her head. Her hot tunnel grips you like a vice, trying to milk the seed out of you with every convulsing ripple. You pin her body to the bed, maul her firm thighs and devour one breast while her lover abuses the other. Tammy watches you plunder her wife's sex with an intensity you haven't seen outside the kitchen. To her your cock is no more than a dildo made of flesh, but you know the incredible sounds it draws out of Vika are a siren song.

Pent up after so much watching, Tammy is unsurprisingly the first to come. She's a squirter. And when her fluids make a mess of Vika's face, an erotic domino effect brings the two of you along shortly after. Vika screeches and spasms to a peak that clenches her sopping walls around the root of your cock and propels you to your own blinding ecstasy. Instead of the latex, you imagine it's her fertile womb you're filling when you spurt your seed inside her.

"Fuck," Tammy gasps after kissing her wife. "I can't believe we didn't do this sooner."

The two of you spend the rest of the night plowing Vika from both ends, swapping between her wet holes with each go. Tammy scissors her as you test her gag reflex and paint her throat white. She calls you Daddy the whole time you pound her pussy. Despite the actual sex being relatively tame by your standards, this experience is one of the most intense of your life. A one-off; both you and Tammy know after tonight the magic will be lost. She'll move on to the next adrenaline rush, perhaps sell Vika on your suggestion of corrupting a closeted young girl to to add to their bed.

You drive away from their home in the darkness of the small hours, wondering if you'll ever find what they have in each other.