The Sins of the Fathers Ch. 10

Her heightened senses reached out. She saw the whiskey glass next to his bed. Taking a deep breath through her nose, sniffing, she shifted closer. The glass is empty. The air carries just the slightest hint of an elixir called bourbon. His slumber will be deep!

Her father stirred. Suddenly restless, Jack Grant moved sensing something, some unidentifiable change in the room. There is the slight fragrance of some fruit. Sweet. He smiled in his sleep. It's the smell of peaches.

Swallow was so slight of frame and crept so lightly onto the bed that it barely moved. As she lay next to her prey, she examined his face. Leaning nearer, she inhaled, shutting her eyes and smelling the slumbering man. Underneath it all, a King or a Father is only a man. Brut and a little sweat. The snore is almost heavy with bourbon like when he's tired and hard to wake on a weekend morning.

Laying a hand on his chest over his heart, Swallow felt the rhythmic, regular deep slow beat. She brought the side of her face to his chest, closed her eyes, and listened. Strong, powerful, even at rest.

She brought her mouth to his neck, and kissed tenderly. Her lips felt the drumbeat-like pulse of his carotid artery. She felt each beat against her lips.

Swallow's thoughts were not evil in their intent, but they tended to the wicked side of humorous. She grinned. She reached out tentatively with her tongue, licking a small spot on her dad's throat. Bringing her lips back to his neck she sucked tentatively. Then a little harder. She kept the suction up. Lady Swallow marked her prey. This is mine!

Nicole gave her dad a hickey! The red bruise on your neck in the morning will let you know you are not safe even in your own bed, Father.

Once more she turned her face, placing an ear on his chest. Listening to the force and rhythm of his heart, she moved her hand downward under the covers. Across the chest hair, down the flat abdomen, across his belly button till she felt a forest of hair.

She found it. It was soft and heavy, laying across a tangle of hairs like some great fallen tree in the forest. He's at rest, dreaming, defenseless. His counselor's mind lulled into unconsciousness by tiredness and alcohol. I will not awaken the sleeper. It was not his conscious mind I want to rouse.

She reached lower, lifting his balls. The shaft, the staff of his need, stirred slowly from its slumber. Just like in the game, the man did not stir. His manhood did. Swallow used it to draw him from his dreams. She used this staff to lift him from the depths of slumber.

As his shaft began to fill, Jack Grant's mind began to empty. He forgot the worries of the day. He forgot the office and the case. He forgot the evidence video. He forgot the demands of fatherhood. Something more primal stirred. A lust of his blood awakened, again.

Swallow felt his awakening in her hand. Sliding under the covers, she was now nearly invisible. Someone looking in the open door or standing next to the bed, wouldn't have seen her.

Holy shit! I can't believe I am doing this. I'm in my dad's bed!

At his waist, she lay a leg over his. Reaching across his hips, her hand stroked the shaft towards her. Restive, the King groaned. Swallow smiled. I only wish to awaken part of you, my Lord, my Father.

Her thumb flicked across the head. She felt the wetness. She raised the thumb to her lips. A small strand, a clear string of need hung from finger to cock head. She closed her eyes and sucked on her thumb. Sweet and silky.

I just tasted him!

It was just a single drop. Her need exploded at the flavor of it on the tip of her tongue. What taste is this? It is a promise. It's a suggestion of the possible.

Swallow knew that this was a precursor to the drink of life itself. He must not waken!

Jack Grant shifted slightly on the bed as though preparing to turn over. Jesus, I'm fucking horny. This is like I'm having a really great dream, but I can't remember what it is. What he did know is that he wanted more of this dream. He forced himself deeper into slumber. If it is lucid dreaming, I might be able to recapture the feeling and pick up where the dream left off before.

Swallow noticed the King stir. She felt the sleeper waken slightly. She sensed the dreamer search for the interrupted dream state. She brought her lips to his ear, "Sleep, Father, it is but a dream!" Her voice was husky, deep, and dark with need.

It is just a dream! Jack struggled to identify that thought. Am I asleep or awake? Am I asleep, dreaming I am awake?

Lady Swallow slid across the King, her father's thighs. Pushing the covers downward to the floor, she kissed the inside of a knee. His leg opened. She kissed the other. It moved aside as well. Now between the sleeper's legs, the staff she sought was nearly in her grasp. It stood there like some monk with a hood over his head. Reaching up from between his thighs, she wrapped her hand around it. Silently, she pulled its hood down; without it, the monk was bald.

She unsheathed the staff. Swallow's lips sealed themselves around the staff's headpiece.

Like she had done hundreds of times, Lady Swallow closed her eyes. Nikki closed hers, too. I have him in my mouth. I can't believe he hasn't woken. This is so cool.

She found a drop of the precursor. As she drew her mouth away, her taste buds exploded with its near-sweet primal taste. She flushed. She hungered. She lowered one hand to his balls, lightly raking her fingernails up and down as they lifted and dropped with each touch. She was stirring the ingredients. What I want, what I am here for requires a mixing. But, I have to accomplish the preparation without waking the prey.

Nikki eyes twinkled. Each time she brought a finger up along a side of the shaft of her father's need, the ball on that side would lift and draw closer to the shaft. She traced her fingernails along the shaft. The balls rode up against its thickness, alternately lifting and settling as she moved her fingers. The shaft of her dad's penis lifted and expanded with each flick, then settled contracting again. The head and shaft throbbed visibly with each touch of her fingers. Awesome!

Lady Swallow knew all of this. Nicole knew nothing of this aspect of a sleeping man's anatomy. She did not know her father's body reacted like this even in his sleep.

If the prey wakes during the ritual mixing, all you get is lust. But, if they sleep through the preparation, you may get dreams as well. What nourishes you then is something more powerful, more primal than animal lust.

It's a desire of the blood. The desire is uncorrupted, no inhibitions, no regrets, no restraints, no second thoughts. It's gifted directly by the subconscious. The gift is pure.

Jack smiled in his sleep moving his hips upward powerfully. God, this feels good. Fucking great dream!

Swallow closed her eyes. Even in the dark, the urgency of his need flooded her senses. She needed to shut it out and concentrate on the mixing. The shaft stiffened. The prey move unconsciously into the pleasure of her hand. The mixing is not unpleasant for the intended.

Her other hand stroked up and down the shaft of the King's need. He moaned again. He mumbled something. This may be the fucking best wet-dream I have ever had! One thing about the last week is that my mind does not seem to lack imagery for masturbation.

She listened. The words of a sleeper were sometimes keys to the fantasy that powered their need. Swallow could not yet make out the words. They were dark and guttural, primal in their intensity but still not clear. A grunt or a groan, no matter how deeply felt by the prey was not enough. She needed him to name the fantasy. A key to an elixir was always the word that described its ingredients. No two feedings were ever the same, because each mix of fantasy and sensation was unique.

Needs have names!

The build-up for this one felt powerful but she couldn't yet name it. The prey would have to call out its need. She tightened her hand and increased its speed. His two balls had lifted and moved into position, ready for the process to go forward.

The King's desires etched themselves across the skin of the staff. Each vein wrapping around it thickened. Like a tree trunk, the aged bark-like skin wrinkled with years of life waited as the blood of lust filled the veins. The shaft throbbed. The skin on the shaft tightened. The root thickened.

Nicole couldn't stay in character; she reached out with her finger and traced the veins. She used her fingertips to feel the surface of his erection. Placing the fingers of a hand on either side of the shaft, she brought her thumbs in to touch the meaty, thick part of the middle shaft. This must be where the stuff goes when it shoots out. She pulled down with her thumbs, the loose skin followed stripping the head bare again. When she moved her thumbs up, she felt the shaft and head expand in the near darkness. I wonder if he'll wake up? Will he know it's me? Will he quietly ask,"Nicole, what are you doing?"

Swallow shook her head to clear the idle thoughts; she needed to concentrate. This is not a time to be distracted by inner voices. The ritual is nearing the point of no return. Once I commit to the act of the feeding, I can't go back. It will be what it will be. It can't be anything else.

Jack shuddered in his sleep. This was a sensory delight for a dream. It felt so real. He was afraid to wake. He wanted to see it through. God, this is simply amazing. If I died right this fucking minute, I would die a happy man. But, I would rather die a few minutes after this dream ends if that is okay with you, God.

Swallow lowered her other hand to his balls, rolling them and squeezing deliberately. The King grunted. She brought her hands together around the base of the staff. His balls were now trapped above her encircling fingers. All of the needs were trapped. More could get in, but none could get out.

Swallow closed her eyes, lowered her mouth and covered the head. She took the headpiece. She took the shaft. She unwrapped his need. Her hands would not let him pull away. She closed her mouth, swallowing the trickle of precursor elixir. Her tongue traced the rope-like veins around his staff. She continued to suck unhurriedly, her head bobbing up and down in the darkness, drawing more and more need into the staff. She increased the suction, her cheeks drawing inward.

Jack Grant was trying to wake. He wanted to move but he felt trapped. His hips lifted. They were heavy. His balls filled. His erection felt like it was so full it almost hurt. Almost, not quite. Every bit of covering skin was stretched. Every nerve was awake. The pleasure sensors were working overtime.

Nothing in his waking life had ever felt like this. His dreaming mind was going crazy trying to name the feeling.

The King's hips lifted in his dreams. In his bed his daughter, Lady Swallow, took him to the root. Her lips touched her fingers surrounding the base of the shaft. The small curly hairs at the base of the trunk tickled her nose. Her throat opened around him expectantly.

Nicole was not nearly as experienced as her avatar. Lady Swallow probably knew exactly what she was doing. Nicole didn't. Her throat rebelled. Less adept, she choked around the thickness of her father's shaft. Her eyes teared up like she was going to cry. She felt a small dribble of liquid onto her tongue. Suddenly the shaft slipped deeper, easier, the stroke smoother and less halting. He was still big, but somehow he was moving in and out easier. Suddenly, he stopped moving forward and just held it still, deep, poised. Unexpectedly, she felt his balls against her lips. I guess you can't go any deeper than that, Dad! You're gonna strangle me with it. I can't breathe! Be calm, Nikki, MacKenzie said this only took a few seconds. It will be over really fast.

Swallow smiled as the mixing was complete. The need was powerful and pure.

Even asleep, he felt her throat tighten around the length of his shaft as she choked silently on it. Jack Grant mumbled. Sweet Jesus. I need to cum.

His mind filtered myriad images of his need. Jennifer, no. MacKenzie, no. An image formed. His child. In his mind, even in his sleep-like state, he turned his inner eye away. Not her! Please, anyone but her!

He groaned, lifted his hips up off the bed and spoke. His voice was deep and rasping. His voice was full of dream sleep. His voice gave need a name.

"Nicole!"

Nicole heard her name reverberate in the darkness of her father's room. Her throat tightened around him again. It hurt so much, she let out a single sob. In her head, it was clear as crystal that she was in her dad's mind. Even dreaming, he was feeling the things that she was doing to him. Closing her eyes, she thought, He said my name. Does he know it's me? Is he asking if it's me? Am I his fantasy? Am I what he thinks about when he cums?

Lady Swallow heard it, too. She closed her eyes and listened to power in that single word. The need was named clearly. The need was primal. It was undiluted. It was unconscious.

She sucked. His hips bucked. She sucked again. Her nose buried itself in his pubic hair. Swallow fed on the energy of the staff of life.

I feed from the source of my own being. I take only what I need. He gives it willingly, if unknowingly.

What happened was the stuff of dreams or nightmares, depending on how honest you are with yourself. Greeks wrote plays about it. Psychiatrists try to give it names. Men deny that they feel it. Mothers leave their husbands, if they even suspects its power is at play. Society hides it. Churches suppress it, along with most of the rest of the sexual energy in the world.

Swallow fed. Her eyes almost glowed in the dark at the intensity of the feeding. The King had named the need.

Nicole smiled. My father named his need, and it is me! My name is a word of power!

When Nicole had named her character Swallow, she thought it a cute name for a lady vampire. Right now, she was just coming to understand the irony of her character's chosen name. It was prescient. She felt the shaft lift and pulse. It throbbed in her hands. The feeling in her finger tips was like it was pumping and getting full. She pulled the shaft back and down to her face, swirling her tongue across and around the exposed head. She sealed her lips around the crown. The pump had been primed.

Closing her eyes, she placed the tip of her tongue against the small opening hole. Jack moaned and Nikki felt a tentative spurt around the tip of her tongue blocking his piss-slit. Suddenly, she was being forced to swallow repeatedly around her father's cock. First precum. What am I supposed to do with all of this? There was more of that stuff than she expected. Then there was rope after rope, shot after shot, blast after blast of white hot seed. Oh My God, is this what MacKenzie meant? She said there was only one shot!

She tightened her fist around him. The flow slowed to a trickle. She tasted it on her tongue, then took a small swallow. Should I taste it? Maybe, just a little!

It doesn't taste bad. It is sweet as precum, then salty as cum. It isn't all unpleasant. There is just so much of it.

Releasing her fist slightly, she was rewarded by a huge shot of her father's seed. She swallowed again. And again!

The raw emotion of having swallowed the first shot from her sleeping father was overwhelming. The shame-lust mix is a heady brew. The repeated shots of seed just drove home the forbidden nature of what she was doing.

If it is bad that I swallowed a little to see what it tasted like, what is it if I swallowed six times? Six?!

Nikki finally pulled back from his shaft. She brought her hand back across her lips, wiping them clean. She closed her eyes for just a second, resting her head on her father's thigh.

No man can endure the feeding and not awaken. Jack fought his way to wakefulness. He muttered something. Swallow's fingers covered his lips. She found his ear again, "You're alone, Father. No one's here. It's but a dream!"

Lady Swallow slipped from the bed as the sleeper awoke. As the dreamer struggled to pull aside the veil of sleep, she found the shadow at the door and faded into it. She moved like a whisper away into the darkness.

Jack blinked awake in the unlit room. At first, he thought it had been a wet dream. But, looking around at his sheets, there was no evidence of it.

Nothing. I'm alone in my own bed. It must have just been a dream.

I'm in my own bed. I'm drenched in sweat. My muscles feel like I just ran a marathon. My breathing is rapid. My cock is half-hard and heavy. Christ, my balls actually feel tired! My wet dreams usually make a hell of a mess. No mess! What the fuck?

There was a faint smell of peaches. Must be the summer night air.

In a young girl's room, just down the hall, a father's only child lay in her bed with her hands clasped behind her head, thinking. Nicole frowned. Wow, THAT was so scary it was totally fucking awesome!

For my dad, my name is a word of power!

She reached across the form of a sleeping guard-bear to the small table beside her bed and opened the drawer. She smiled, Always be prepared! Altoids: spearmint flavor.

As she slipped into position spooning with Sir Barrister, the spearmint taste washed her mouth clean but not her thoughts. She smiled, I swallow, too, MacKenzie!

Jack Grant simply tossed and turned until dawn. He couldn't reinitialize the earlier dream. He tried more than once before sleep finally took him. It was a restless, dreamless night. By the time the sun finally rose and forced the night's darkness into retreat, Jack's energy was gone. He felt tired, drained.

He showered. He shaved. As he did, Nikki traipsed through the bathroom, leaving him a cup of fresh black coffee. She smiled as she saw the little red hickey on his neck.

"Did you sleep well, Daddy?"

"I dreamed a lot," he answered sluggishly. "A couple of strange dreams." Erotic dreams!

"What kind of dreams? What were they about?" She smiled. Was I in them, Daddy? I bet I was! You said my name.

"Nicole, a man's dreams are a private thing. I'm not responsible for what happens in my head in my sleep."

She grinned. That's okay, 'cause I already know what you dreamed about.

"What?!" he demanded.

"Nothing, Daddy!" She almost giggled, but restrained herself long enough to leave the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror as he wiped the excess shaving cream away, Jack noticed a small red bruise on the side his neck. He couldn't help but smile. Nicole must have put that there when she was teasing me yesterday. She's pretty good at the dating game, I didn't even notice it.

Jesus, I really do need to start eating my Wheaties! The day hasn't even started and I'm already exhausted. How is it even possible to be this tired just waking up? Thank God, it's the weekend.

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