Three Fathers

I turned round and ran away. Heading straight home, my heart pounding, my mind racing. Adultery can be fun, but it's less fun when you're the one being cheated on. I went up to my room and threw myself onto the bed, crying into my pillow. I couldn't believe what I had seen. He was supposed to be my Daddy, not hers; which of course sounds fucking stupid if you say it out loud. He was her Daddy, in a way I could never replicate. But still, why was he fucking her when he could fuck me?

A few days later, after avoiding her for a while, I was back at Frannie's house. My interaction with her was a little strained, but I soon loosened up. To begin with, we didn't do anything sexual together, but before too long we were making out on her bed, and my hand was inside her panties. She was chewing on my nipple when suddenly we heard a coughing sound. I turned round and saw Mr Leaf standing in the doorway.

"When you're done, do you think you two young ladies could join me in the master bedroom?" He said, before turning round and walking away.

Frannie and I shared a concerned look, then got ourselves tidied up, before making our way to his room. He was sat on the end of the bed, with his legs crossed. Both of us stood there side by side, in silence, our hands behind our backs. He looked at me and then he looked at Frannie. For what seemed like an eternity he didn't say a word. Then...

"So, this is quite a situation we've gotten ourselves into, isn't it?" He said.

Neither of us replied. We just carried on standing there, looking at him.

"And how long has this been going on? How long have you two been playing together?"

"Not long," I replied, "only a couple of months. Around the same time we...well...when we..."

"Started fucking?"

"Yes."

"I'm not angry, girls. I want you to know that. I'm not angry at all. I'm a little surprised, but I'm not upset. In fact I think this may well be a rather advantageous development. For all of us. It will certainly make what happens next so much easier. If I'm to be brutally honest, I had planned to engineer a scenario like this, but your unprompted activities have sped things up quite expeditiously."

Neither Frannie or I knew what to say.

"Take off your clothes," he said.

"What?" Frannie asked.

"Take off your clothes. Now. Both of you."

The two of us, like the obedient little sluts we obviously both were, began unbuttoning our dresses and soon enough we were stood naked in front of him. He got up and walked towards us.

"What beautiful young women you are. I'm so lucky to have you. My daughter," he whispered, gently caressing Frannie's cheek, "and you Georgia, my adopted daughter," he said, turning to look at me, "Daddy loves you both very much, you know?"

"Thank you, Daddy," we replied in unison.

"I'm afraid I have - in some ways - rather old-fashioned views on parenting. In a way, I see my daughters as my possessions. Possessions for me to use and enjoy as I see fit. Even in a somewhat unconventional way. I have enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh with both of you. Separately. And you have obviously indulged in certain excesses with each other. So, why not enjoy some special time together? All three of us."

He reached out and cupped my breast, squeezing it firmly, before twisting my nipple sharply. I gasped, my breast throbbing in pain. He then did the same to Frannie.

"Do you love me, Francesca?" He asked.

"Yes, Daddy," she replied.

"Do you love me, Georgia?"

"Yes, Daddy," I replied.

"Do you love your sister?" He asked both of us.

"Yes, Daddy," we said unison.

"Let me see me how much."

He stepped back, spreading his arms out wide, the great showman directing events. Frannie and I turned to each other, both of us smouldering with lust. Slowly, we embraced, our arms wrapping round each other's bodies, our breasts pressing together tightly. My lips met hers, barely touching to begin with, just the slightest of contact. Then our mouths opened, our tongues snaking out, exploring and probing. Our breath, hot and desperate. Our hands, roaming and frantic.

I kissed her neck, my tongue moving up and down her smooth skin. She cupped my buttocks in her hands, squeezing my flesh intently. Then I moved my attention to her breasts, wrapping my lips round her nipple, biting it gently, as my tongue slavered all over the rubbery teat. She squealed as I sucked on her boob, her hands roaming through my hair. I knew Frannie had very sensitive nipples and enjoyed it when I spent time worshipping her tits.

For a couple of minutes I just went to town on her breasts; first one, then the other. I licked and sucked and bit, my saliva running down her chest and stomach. I could see the tiny blue veins and capillaries under her creamy white skin. I could feel the pebbled texture of her nipples against my lips and tongue. I knew from our recent carnal history that Frannie liked me to be a little rough with her. She enjoyed her breasts getting a bit of a mauling. So I duly obliged. I worshipped her. I serviced her. I loved her.

Then Mr Leaf decided to move us along.

"Georgia, look up and open your mouth wide," he commanded.

I did as I was told.

"Francesca, spit in her mouth."

She was taller than me, so the choreography made sense. Frannie towered over me, looking down at my face. Then she pursed her lips and spat a gob of liquid down towards me. I rolled her saliva round with my tongue, savouring its frothy texture. Then she leaned down and kissed me, licking her own fluid out between my lips. She spat at me again, repeating the procedure several times.

By now Mr Leaf was sat on the bed. He quietly unzipped his fly and fished out his cock. He stroked it lazily as he watched Frannie and I make out, our hands groping each other's tits.

"Girls," he said, "get down on your hands and knees and come over here. Daddy wants some attention."

Both of us turned towards him, then sank to the floor. I could feel the deep pile carpet beneath me. Slowly, Frannie and I crawled across the room towards the bed, our tits swinging down below us. We reached it, kneeling in front of him, with our mouths opened and our tongues out. He shuffled forward slightly, slapping my face with his cock, and then he did the same with his daughter.

"Are you both my good little girls?" He asked.

"Yes, Daddy," we replied in unison.

"Prove it," he said, waggling his dick in his hand.

So we did. We started licking his cock, me on one side, Frannie on the other. Our mouths moved up and down his shaft, our tongues occasionally touching as we slurped all over his prick. He groaned as I wrapped my lips round the head of his tool, tickling the little string of skin just below the tip. Frannie concentrated on his balls, sucking one then the other into her mouth.

He stroked our hair, gently manipulating our movements as we sucked and licked his cock. We kissed some more, then resumed our oral assault. After a few minutes, with little warning, he came all over us. His dick pulsed and throbbed, as ribbons of cum splashed over our faces. We stared at each other, both of us dripping with semen, and we giggled in an almost childish fashion. Then we began licking each other's faces, lapping up all this pearly white cream.

Soon my mouth was full of Mr Leaf's jizz. I dribbled it into Frannie's mouth and she savoured it like a fine wine. Then she returned the favour. Strands of spittle and semen stretched between us, shining in the midday sun, flooding through the bedroom window. We were like a little personal porno performance, two naked, teenage girls, our faces wet with saliva and seminal fluid, kissing with passionate intensity.

We climbed up on to the bed, to make out with Mr Leaf. Once again, I was on one side, Frannie was on the other. He kissed me, then he kissed her. We all tried kissing each other, tongues and lips and teeth and chins butting into each other, the three of us laughing with joy and clumsy enthusiasm.

Both Frannie and I fucked him, taking turns. I rode his dick while she sat on his face, grinding her cunt into her father's mouth as she suckled on my breasts. Then he fucked her doggy style, while she lapped away at my pussy. Both of us came again and again as this stern, sexually rapacious man ploughed away at the forbidden cunts of his daughter and his daughter's best friend. What an afternoon it was.

Eventually, we had to stop and clean up. Mrs Leaf was due home imminently. We stripped the bed and I put the sheets in the washing machine. Mr Leaf opened the windows to air out the bedroom, before wiping down any surfaces covered in sweat or semen or cunt juice. The three of us took a quick shower together, Frannie and I both giving him a frenzied hand-job, as the hot water cascaded down on top of us. If Mrs Leaf noticed anything amiss when she got back, she didn't mention it.

I practically flew home that night, skipping down the street with an exuberant joie de vivre I could barely contain. My already crazy life had just become a lot more crazy. A threesome! An incestuous threesome! It was madness. It was glorious. My heart was racing like a jackhammer. I had never felt more alive, more grown up, more excited.

It was only a couple of days later that I got my first bout of morning sickness.

***

Looking back, it wasn't all that much of a surprise I got pregnant; although in truth, it should have happened a lot earlier. In those first few weeks when Mr Leaf and I had started having proper sex, rather than just going down on each other, we didn't use any kind of contraceptive. I wasn't so naive as to not realise the potential dangers, but Mr Leaf always insisted on fucking me bareback. He would withdraw before orgasm - mostly - but that was hardly a foolproof method for avoiding an unwanted pregnancy.

Then I started taking the pill and, as far as I was concerned, the problem should have gone away. Except of course when you read the small print you find out it isn't always a hundred per-cent effective. It certainly wasn't in my case. I began throwing up one morning and soon realised something was wrong. A quick shop-bought pregnancy test later and I knew the truth. I was going to be a mother. I was eighteen years old and I was going. To. Be. A. Mother.

But Mr Leaf had other plans.

As soon as I told him, he made the arrangements for a termination. He didn't really discuss it with me, he just told me what was going to happen. I was a woman, but in some ways I was still a child. I was used to doing what I was told, especially by Mr Leaf. So I just went along with it, without debate or delay. To this day, I still think it was the right thing for me to do. Probably. But I feel guilty about it too. I'm not exactly what you would call religious, so I don't think I committed some terrible sin that will jeopardise my eternal soul. But that could have been my baby. My child. It weighs on me, even now. I'm what you would call pro-choice but I know how complicated and difficult the decision to have an abortion can be.

The procedure however was fairly simple. It was very early in my pregnancy, so I didn't have to have an operation. I just had to take some tablets, firstly in the clinic and then a day or two later I took another batch at home. A few hours after that there was some bleeding and my brief flirtation with teenage motherhood was at an end. I cried myself to sleep that night, grieving for a child I would never know. Like I say, I think I made the right choice, but it was never going to be an easy choice.

The sex continued, with Mr Leaf, with Frannie, and occasionally the three of us together. At some point along the line he produced out of nowhere a strap-on dildo that we ended up using with some gusto. He liked watching the two of us fuck each other, and on a number of occasions both us girls ended up being DPed, with a real live dick in one hole and a rubber one in the other.

But something just wasn't right, not after the pregnancy. I felt differently about things. I felt differently about him. I had always adored this man, despite the fact he wasn't exactly what you would call adorable. I had found his distance, his aloofness, his coldness, exciting. I wanted him to love me. But now I saw him as selfish, self-absorbed. I'd seen the look of panic in his face when I told him I was pregnant. He didn't really care about me the way I thought he did. He wasn't my Daddy. He was essentially a selfish man who had abused the trust of a young woman.

I had pretty much decided to end the relationship, but before I could make any dramatic announcement, the decision was taken out of my hands. The company he worked for moved its operations out west, so the Leaf family were heading in the same direction. Frannie and I enjoyed a few final, steamy sessions of vigorous pussy-lapping, before they left. I even let Mr Leaf fuck me once more for the road. After he had cum inside me for the final time, he kissed me gently on my forehead and called me his good little girl, like he always did. I knew it wasn't true, but I wept nonetheless. My feelings about Mr Leaf have always been conflicted, to say the least.

Frannie and I kept in touch, on or off, at least for a while. We emailed each other fairly regularly to begin with. We even wrote proper letters every so often. In one of those letters she explained how her own sexual relationship with him began. It turns out me and Mr Leaf were not as discreet as we thought we were. Not as careful. She had caught us making love. Frannie had come home earlier than expected and she spied on me and her father fucking in the front room.

When I heard you call him Daddy for the first time, I knew I had to have him, she had written. After all, he was my father, not yours. If anyone was to be his good little girl, it should be me.

And that sexual relationship had continued. She confessed as much in her letters, although she usually spoke in code, when she remembered to be careful, she referred to him as Mr D. The D standing for Daddy. She said she felt weird about fucking him, being fucked by him, but she said it excited her in a way nothing else could. I pleaded with her to be cautious, but she didn't listen.

About a year after the Leaf family had moved away, I received a final letter from Frannie. We had pretty much stopped communicating by now, and this was the last proper letter she ever sent me. It included some photos, family portraits of Mr and Mrs Leaf, and their daughter. I could see immediately that Frannie was pregnant. Her belly was prominent, as were her breasts. She was holding her outsized stomach tenderly, proudly cradling her bump.

Mrs Leaf looked older, drained, uneasy. Mr Leaf had that distant, unknowable look on his face. As he always did. In the accompanying note she explained she was nearly six months gone and preparing to be a mother. 'Mr D' was thrilled, she said. No mention of any termination or abortion for her. She really was his good little girl. I was always second rate.

A few months later I received an email from Frannie, introducing me to her daughter, Audrey. She was a happy, healthy little girl. Mother and daughter were both thriving. There was no mention of Mr Leaf.

I never heard from them again after that. And I never tried to initiate contact. I don't know if Frannie and her father had any more children. I don't know if they continued their forbidden relationship. I don't know if Mrs Leaf ever worked out what was going on between her husband and her daughter, but if the look on her face in that last photo was anything to go by, I suspect she had some idea.

This was a strange initiation into the world of sex. A strange introduction. I now feel, in many ways, Mr Leaf deserves criticism. He was an older man who took advantage of a younger woman. He then went one incredibly massive step further and took sexual advantage of his own daughter. That's not good, no matter how you try and spin it. And yet I still have some fond feelings for him. He played an important role in my life. He was a paternal presence as I grew up. Sort of. He was, for a short time at least, my Daddy.

But I was going to find another one soon enough.

***

Part 2: Big Nick

The motel was cheap and tatty, but that was how we liked it. It seemed to suit the nature of our relationship. It was standard stuff; old, past-its-best furniture. Thin drapes that barely met in the middle. An old-fashioned television that only worked when you banged it with your fist. There was a dresser, a couple of chairs that didn't match, and a single double bed. The mattress was thin and mostly busted, with spring coils bursting out all over.

A fact that was certainly very noticeable when you were tied to that bed with hard leather restraints.

He'd left me there a few hours ago. He had a meeting to go to and he had ordered me to strip down and clamber on to the mattress before he left. Then he had opened up his suitcase and produced the leather straps. I immediately got wet when I saw what he had in mind. I spread my legs wide, reaching out for the corners of the bed. With his customary gentle manner, he delicately took hold of my ankles and restrained them. Then he moved up to the top of the bed and did the same with my wrists.

"How long will you be, Daddy?" I asked him, not expecting a definitive answer. My nipples were hard and throbbing.

"As long as it takes," he replied, smiling at me.

He bent down and kissed me; a warm, passionate kiss. He was a much more cheerful and emotionally demonstrative fellow than Mr Leaf.

"Have fun," he said with a smirk, and disappeared from the room.

I suppose I must have nodded off a couple of times, so I don't know exactly how long I was there for. I could see from the movement of light through the room that it was a matter of hours. It was early morning when he left; it must have been at least mid-afternoon when he got back.

I was well used to being tied up by now, this wasn't the first time he had done this, but it was still physically draining. My limbs soon throbbed and ached, when they weren't tingling with numbness or pins and needles. I knew I had to concentrate, control my discomfort. It had become a form of meditation, when I was restrained like this.

But holy Jesus, I needed a piss.

I hadn't managed to go before he left, so my bladder was already full. I hadn't had anything else to drink, but I was still bursting to go to the toilet. He knew that would be the case. He didn't care. He enjoyed the fact I was in this compromising situation. I suppose I should be grateful he had put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on. On previous occasions when he had tied me up like this, he had allowed house cleaning to come in, and find me strapped naked to the bed.

I wriggled and squirmed. I needed to cum as well as empty my bladder. But I couldn't touch myself. My clit was tingling, my cunt was leaking like a faulty faucet. God, I was so turned on. This was the effect he had on me. This power. This charm. He could tie me up like a little slut and leave me there writhing in agony, and still I wanted nothing more than for him to fuck me. Make me cum. I was just his submissive fuck-toy. Exactly what I wanted to be.

Finally, after goodness knows how long, I could hear the key rattling in the door. This was such a crappy place, they still hadn't invested in key cards; they were using real actual proper old metal keys, attached to oversized fobs, with the motel logo on them. The door opened and in he walked, casual as can be. He didn't even bother looking in my direction. He switched on the TV and sat down on one of the mismatched chairs.