The Parting

Intro by Dom.

We were both 20 and about to break up.

We had met at college, and became an item almost immediately.

We got engaged, despite her oppressive parents...parents she hated, and who had left her upbringing to her grandparents for most of her life.

My parents had gotten divorced recently, and my dad got an opportunity to move to a different country, not too far from home, but far enough to start afresh.

We chose to go with him, after convincing my girlfriend that this was the chance to escape her parents and their destructive behaviour. My dad was happy for her to come along and share our new home, and our new adventure.

It had lasted only 6 months or so. Each day she appeared more sullen, more depressed. It didn't help that I found work that kept me away most of the week. Leaving her with my dad as company. But he was not her family and she felt increasingly isolated and alone, she told me finally.

We argued. She told me she wanted to go back home and begged me to come back with her. She didn't miss her parents, but she did miss and worry about her grandad she said. Homesickness had struck her bad.

I was too blinkered to want to understand what she was going through. I could not relate to why she wanted to go back, to waste an opportunity to create a life together in a new place, away from all that she had tried to escape from for years. I resented her wanting to go home. It felt like a snub. A kick in the balls. But she was adamant that she was going back home, with or without me - even though she didn't want us to split up. She pleaded with me to go with her, but I acted like a real prick, and was cold towards her, told her to go. Told her it was over, and that I could not understand why she would chose to leave me and give up on everything that lay in front of us.

And here we were. The last night together before she was due to leave early the next morning for the journey home.

My dad had gone to bed early. I assumed he was trying to avoid the acrimonious atmosphere of our untangling relationship, and the raw emotion of that last night. He had tried to intervene on her behalf. It seemed she had been talking to him about it while I was away. He assured me it was OK for me to go back with her, that my future was with her not him, but I was stubborn, and resented him taking her side. God I could be self destructive.

There had been tears, and continuous pleading. At one point she said she had changed her mind and would stay, but for whatever reason I belligerently told her to go, she had made her decision, the damage had been done and could not be fixed. I will never understand why I said that. Why I acted that way. The best I could do years later was decide that I wanted to hurt her, because she had hurt me by wanting to leave, by rejecting our future together. Because I was immature.

I don't know how it happened. But as the night wore on, and we talked; the small bedroom charged with emotion, the conversation took a strange turn. I can't describe in a single word how I felt; it was a cocktail of resigned, fatalistic, curious, angry, heartbroken and oddly, extremely horny - and it was this last emotion that ruled my actions and my words.

As we would cease to be a couple in less than 12 hours, I asked her all sorts of strange questions, like I wanted to feel more pain, like I was willing her to give me a reason to hate her even more, so it would somehow help deal with the heartbreak. I wanted her to be the undisputed villain of the piece, so I could say "it was her not me" to those that asked.

"Did you ever cheat on me....did you ever play away."

"What?"

"You heard...you might as well tell me now anyway, it doesn't matter anymore, does it."

She glared at me. Fury on her face.

"No...no I didn't."

"Really...did you ever want to. Did you have the opportunity? Is there someone you wondered about, fantasised about and thought, what if?"

The more I spoke, the more I discovered that I wanted her to confess to some sort of infidelity, it just got to me, that thought of her with someone else, or an admission she craved someone else.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you ask that?"

I reached for her, and yanked her to me and kissed her hard...she resisted at first. Confused.

"What are you up to. You don't get to do that anymore."

I moved forward, pushing her backwards with my body weight, until she could do nothing but fall back on to the bed.

I lay on top of her, and she struggled. I kissed her again.

"I want to fuck you. One last time. One more night to remember you."

I was lay between her legs now, my erect cock pressed in to her pubes through her little satin shorts from within my own sports shorts.

"I don't know why, but I feel so fucking horny right now. I have to fuck you."

My hand slid under her satin vest top and gripped one of her breasts.

"Please...one last time. I need something...anything. A goodbye."

I could see the pain and sadness in her eyes, and perhaps pity. She made a decision and kissed me back letting me know it was ok.

The hand that had groped her breast, slid down to her shorts, and up inside them from one of the leg openings, and fingers touched soft downy hairs on her pussy.

She sighed as my fingers parted her and probed her labia and clit; getting increasingly lubricated as her arousal grew and my fingers sank deeper, then slid back and forth rhythmically.

"I'm going to miss this. You always were a great fuck."

She didn't answer.

I paused for a moment to strip off my shorts and t-shirt, my swollen cock felt harder than it ever had due to the emotionally charged circumstances. It felt somehow wrong that I was about take her for the last time. Almost taboo. I felt heady with power, with dark thoughts surging through my mind. I wanted to use her, do and say things I had never dared to before, I wanted to make it count, get it all out there and leave nothing to regret.

I yanked her shorts down, almost tearing them from her, and then lifted her vest top over her head. She lay there naked. Expectant. And I thought a little bit uncertain of why she was allowing this to happen.

My head went between her legs and my tongue lapped up her sexual liqueur from her warm, pink, fleshy, pussy lips. I heard her groan. Her pussy smelled of sweet, sexual arousal, and the heat of her exposed skin washed over the tip of my tongue. She had a beautiful, tight cunt.

My fingers entered her again, as I continued to flick her clit with the tip of my tongue. I frigged her cunt fast, and hard, almost cruelly. Within seconds she began to gush, juices squirting on my hand and on to the bed. She was trying hard not to yell out, or make too much noise to alert my dad of what was going on. Something she always had to do when we were fucking under the same roof.

I stopped abruptly, turned her over on to her side and spooned her. My cock slipped inside her clenched, sodden hole and despite the increasing urge to pound her hard, I slid my full length in and out slowly, but firmly. My left hand reached for her tits and her nipples.

"You didn't answer my question." I said as I slowly increased my speed, and in doing so heard her soft groans go up a pitch in tone, despite them being stifled.

"So, have you ever wanted to fuck someone else, but didn't, or have you ever fantasised about another guy, but wasn't brave enough to go through with it?"

Breathily she said. "Why, why do you need to know."

"Well, if I'm honest...I mean I can confess now can't I? My favourite fantasy is me watching you fuck another guy...it drives me crazy, watching him pleasure you, watching you respond to his touch and his massive cock...seeing you give yourself to him, wanting more, needing to be consumed by him, craving him."

"Oh my god..."

She said it in a tone and in a way that left me in no doubt I had touched a nerve somehow, like I knew she had such thoughts and I had caught her out. It was as if she was imagining the scenes I spoke of in her head; and perhaps she was I concluded.

"Are you thinking of him now, are you thinking of what it would be like to be used by him? Well perhaps you might get your chance now."

I slowed down, but I didn't want to. I was desperate to fuck her deep, hard and fast...to slam in to her and spill my salty batter in her cunt, to leave my mark on her one last time. But, I wanted to keep probing verbally more, to keep her talking, I was more desperate to hear a confession, intrigued to hear what, or who, she fantasised about.

I withdrew, turned her on her back and re-entered her missionary style, looking in to her eyes. I stooped my head and kissed her tenderly; a kiss that belied our imminent parting, as my hips slowly ground my cock in her soaking wet pussy.

"Will you fuck him now that you can." I whispered between kisses. "Will you make your fantasy a reality when you see him?"

For a moment there was silence. Then she spoke.

"No, no...I can't do that."

"Can't or won't despite you being able too?"

"Can't."

"Why not...who is he."

She shook her head, freeing herself of my increasingly fervent kisses.

"Tell me..."

I felt my anger growing, I wanted to know who she thought of, but couldn't have.

"Just fucking tell me who he is."

"No."

The frustration inside me reached boiling point. I withdrew and turned her over again, this time she was flat on her stomach, her face buried in a pillow.

I changed tack a little, as I took her again from behind; my body pressing down on her, pinning her to the mattress.

"Do you play with yourself when you think of him, about him fucking you...do you finger your pussy, do you cum imaging his cock ploughing you...do you picture yourself playing with his rod, sucking it, caressing it...worshipping it?

I heard her moan, my words triggering more flashes of her phantom lover in her tortured mind...and I knew her heightened arousal had more to do with my words and the images they conjured, rather than me fucking her.

"Do you...do you cum when you fantasise about being with him...about spending the night with him and screwing him?"

"Yes....oh fuck, yes...ok, happy now...yes I finger myself, yes I use a toy on myself and imagine its his cock, yes I think of spending the night with him and doing whatever he wants. And yes I cum when I think of him taking me."

I didn't even know she had a sex toy.

"I wish I had known this before...it would have been fantastic to watch you play with yourself, and tell me what you imagined he was doing to you. Or better still, watch you fuck him for real."

She gave a strangled laugh. Almost manic.

"What? What is it."

"I don't think you would." She practically guffawed.

"Why?"

Her head shook in the pillow, indicating she would not tell me.

I readjusted, and yanked her hips up off the bed roughly, so she was on her knees, then rammed in my cock.

I gripped her neck in one hand and squeezed, as I hammered her from behind, making her whine.

"Tell me....tell me who he is." No reply.

My thumb went to her anus, and the tip was forced inside. She winced.

"Stop....stop now...you don't do that. Not now, you have no right."

"Tell me and I'll stop." I spat.

My thumb sank past the knuckle just as she blurted out.."Your dad...I fantasise about your dad. Now stop you fucking bastard. There...now you know, and I bet you wish you didn't."

I was shocked. It wasn't the answer I expected. And I understood now why she couldn't, or hadn't taken it further. Couldn't now because she would be gone tomorrow, and hadn't I assumed, because of me.

To my surprise however, the thought of her riding my dads cock proved to be a massive turn on. I pictured her young supple, slender, hot body being serviced by the older, mature and experienced man who was my father - and became consumed with a lustful, powerful urge to witness it for real. Self destruct mode was now in full flow.

Since my mum and dad split, I know he's had his fair share of pussy, and some of it much younger than him. Not jailbait, but 20s to his almost 40. To be honest, women had always found him attractive, something my mum sort of had to put up with. But in the end it was her who had been caught cheating, of having an affair with a friend of the family. I would never know if my old man had played away and taken advantage of the female attention he attracted and whether my mum acted as some sort of revenge, or if she got fed up of competing. Her lover was certainly not as appealing as my dad.

He had a look of Sean Connery. Same build and physique, same rugged, handsome looks, same colouring, slightly balding but it suiting him, and very hairy chest, legs, arms, and moustache, a sign of virility its said. And I know he his hung. Much bigger than his offspring. Something I did not inherit.

I came inside her, as thoughts of her in bed with my dad swirled around my head like an intoxicating smog.

I wasn't done though. I couldn't leave it there. I needed to keep her aroused now I had shot my load.

Quickly, I rolled her over on to her back again, and lay beside her, looking at her in shock. My fingers found her cum soaked labia and spread them, seeking out her little bud. Once located, I began to tease it, to keep her on the path to her own release...and hopefully more confessions.

Before she got the chance to speak first, I pressed on. My need to hear her answers urgent.

"Why him."

"Really. You want to know...does what I just said not make you furious. Does it not make you hate me, despise me, or make you feel sick?"

"Actually, I thinks its hot. It turns me on."

She stared in disbelief. My probing fingers forgotten for an instant.

"OK, seeing as you're so interested, and seeing as you know now, and I wont see you after tonight, then I will tell you."

"He is a good looking guy. He is mature. He is funny. He let me come along with you, to live with you, and the more time I spent with him when you were away, the more we got on. He consoled me when I was upset, he cared when you didn't, or weren't there. We got friendly, and even did a bit of harmless flirting, some teasing. You know, ribbing him about being a good looking guy, and saying he should get himself out there, and jokingly - at first anyhow - that if I wasn't spoken for, I might have gone for the older guy. Just harmless stuff."

"But as time went on, and I grew more lonely, and he hugged me to make me feel better, to feel safe, eventually I realised I was attracted to him. When there was just us in the house, I began to catch him looking at me also out of the corner of my eye, sort of deep in thought, and I suspected he wanted me too. When we watched TV together, and a sex scene came on, there seemed to be this tension hung in the air, an elephant in the room. It was obvious he was undressing me with his eyes...wondering."

"When we passed each other, or came close to each other after that, there was an electricity...a feeling, and it grew to almost danger point. To where something had to give. I began to wonder if he would act on it, try it on, or make a pass at me. But he didn't. I thought about making the first move, but told myself it was wrong, that I couldn't do that to you. I expect he thought the same, which is why he never tried anything. But I could tell I was in his head, I could tell he thought about me...and he was in mine. It was almost unbearable. I began to wonder what I would do he if did make a move, and what it would be like to spend the night in his bed, for him to fuck me all night. I wondered if it would be better, or different from you."

"Oh. God....Jesus...mmm...don't stop. I need to cum...ooh fuck yes." She interjected before I continuing with the grilling.

"So what if he had. What if for example, he walked in on you after you had showered, or while you were in the shower...what if had come to your room in the night when I was away, and got in beside you. What if he reached out and pulled you to him and forced a kiss on you...what if during one of those sex scenes on TV, he ran his hand up your leg, under your clothing and began to stroke your pussy? I mean there are a thousand ways it could have happened. Would you have responded? Would you have given yourself to him if he tried...would you have taken his big fat, swollen cock (she groaned aloud at this) in your hand, in your mouth...in your hungry aching cunt?"

Despite herself, she yelled out as her orgasm exploded and tore through her body, as it spasmed and writhed in her release..."yes...oh my god yes...yes...I would...oh fuck..oh fuck me, yes."

As the waves subsided I said. "Is that the real reason you are leaving, to get away from him, to avoid something happening between you?"

"It's more like the reason I can't stay anymore...I wanted to go before the attraction grew, before I thought of him that way. I am homesick, and the attraction began from him comforting me, caring for me, making me notice him as a man in his own right, and not just as my boyfriends dad. Now I think its fair to say, that he is probably another reason I can't stay."

I swallowed hard, barely believing what I was about to suggest.

"So why don't you?"

"What?"

"Why don't you go and seduce him...why not scratch that itch. As you said, you'll be gone tomorrow, so why not go for it. What does it matter now?

"Are you for real...I mean, I thought you were heartbroken, I thought doing that would tear you apart, that it would drive a wedge between you and your dad, if we did something unspeakable, that me and your dad would be hated. I didn't, don't, want to be responsible for that, and I suspect your dad doesn't either. I mean come on, would you really be OK with me wandering over there and fucking your dad all night...I don't think so. I mean sure it sounds hot in your head, right here, right now, its giving you a hard on, and yes I suppose the circumstances mean it doesn't matter as much anymore, but later, when I am gone, you have to live with your dad. Could you do that after seeing me with him?"

I processed what she said, and dwelled on it for a brief moment, but my cock was ruling my head and my heart and the only inane response I had was. "You know he's hung right?"

She was taken aback. Bewildered by my comment.

"Erm...well yes, I do. Its not like that before you get the wrong idea. I was in the garden picking up some litter that had blown in and I just glanced up and saw him in his room in front of the mirror after he showered. (The house is a large bungalow on a hill). I don't think he knew I was there, maybe he did thinking about it now, but I could see him...it...in the mirror. And...."

She cut herself off.

"Go on."

"Well, oh shit...well he began to stroke it, to play with himself and I saw it grow..it was...well it made me shiver."

(What she didn't confess however, was that since that incident, she had also felt it pressed against her, as his dad held her as she sobbed, comforting her. And that his dad had known she could feel it, and was probably hoping she would respond to it, and make the first move. She almost had, especially when he pulled her tight, crushing the outline of his thick, long shaft in to her pubis and abdomen. It was the night both of them had come closest to giving in to their desires. She did not know how, but in the end she freed herself of his grasp, giving him a baleful look that hopefully conveyed to him "I want to so much, but we just can't".)

I reached for her tits, which had grown hard and swollen at the memory, her nipples stood to attention.

"You know you'll regret it if you don't...and you know he wants you too. Go on, I want you to, I want to hear you respond to his big cock, I want to see him take you and school you. I want to see you suck my old mans hard cock...you know you want to go to him...do it. There is nothing stopping you, but yourself. I'll be OK...We'll be OK...I want to see you with him. There will be no recriminations. Promise."