Tragic Milestones in Life Revised

"I think you'll like her," I responded, helping pull back her chair as we prepared to leave the dining room.

The waitress added our bill to my room tab and we retired to our suite.

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The warmth of the multi-head shower helped ease some of the muscle tensions earned from being crammed into a narrow seat in a jostling airplane. Its pristine feel also scrubbed a bit of the guilt my wife had heaped upon my shoulders. We stood beneath the rain shower head, clutched together. My fingers were pushing the lather between Rachel's thighs and her butt, to cleanse her body in preparation for exploration. My finger followed her curves and slid into her rectum. I felt the reflexive tension of her buttocks clutching tightly against my trapped hand. Those sensual touches evoked soft moans. My other hand roamed up through the folds of her slit. Her growing pleasures dismissed the angst of my wife's demise and other thoughts of the outside world.

Ten years of guilt flowed down the drain along with the frothy soap bubbles. The rain-like sound and the warmth of the shower drowned out all thoughts of Johnathon and David. Being clutched together, my hand thrust between her thighs, turned off any thoughts that didn't focus on building lust.

All showers come to an end; despite the pleasures you derive while in them. Ours always moves to building a sensual foreplay of tantric sex positions as a prelude to the main events. Tonight's warmups broke with our traditional, non-conversational approach. Rachel felt the need to talk. No doubt brought on by the conversation regarding my ex-wife. The conversation about David, her son, was an unexpected discussion item this evening, as well.

"David is seven, you know?"

"Yes. I'm aware of that ... is this going somewhere?" I mused, as I stroked her breasts.

"Johnathon had a long talk with David," she whispered, as she faced me and straddled my legs, "about their father-son roles."

I listened to her words as my fingertips slowly caressed the curves of her breasts while avoiding her nipples. I save those for later.

"Go on."

"David knows Johnathon is not his father," she continued. "The bastard told him!"

She hissed those last seething words while breathing deeply in response to the movements of my fingertips on the cusps of her areolas. I could tell Johnathon's conversation bothered her. It must have been unsettling for David to learn the man whom he considered to be his father, now, denied it.

"Now, he is asking me who his father is," she added, inhaling deeply as my fingernail gazed the topmost part of her right nipple.

"Did you tell him?"

"Vaguely. That he is someone I met years ago. This week, David came to me again, asking for more. He wants to know what his father is like. Where he lives. Why he doesn't come to see him. Those kinds of questions."

"What are you going to tell him, Rachel?"

Edging both thumbs against the outer ridges of her slit, I gently rolled the soft folds of her mons apart. Light pressure against her labia coaxed the first hint of a forming pool of lubricant to the other folds as I stroked upward nearing her clitoral hood. I watched as her eyes close and her head tilted back in response. I slowed the motions, allowing her Chi, that balance of Yin and Yang, to stabilize a bit. First, she sucked in her lower lip, then switched to pull in her upper one, in anticipation of my next movement, raising her chin slightly as my thumbs circled her clit. I enjoyed watching her struggle to control her emotions as I eased my teasing to allow her to finish her story.

Amidst the lull, she whispered, in sort of a sigh, "I'm going to tell David that I'm making arrangements for his grandfather to come and bring his father to visit," she answered as her shallow breathing began to deepen again as my fingers worked their way inside her inner labia. Slowly, her eyes opened to explore my response to her statement.

"And Johnathon?" I asked, trying not to betray my irritation with this divergent conversation. It should just be giving herself over to my pleasure; not fraught with unrelated thoughts.

"Johnathon knows about the visit. He's the one that demanded it.

"Daddy, Johnathon is very prideful. He felt okay, going into our marriage, knowing I wasn't going to be monogamous. He didn't plan to be either. We both agreed on that. He was okay even when I saw other women; not just men. But he turned angry when he found out that first year about you and me. He couldn't accept that; sharing me with you, he said, was different that sharing me with strangers. I didn't see his point, but he said he didn't care if I did or not.

"Six months ago, Johnathon took David to his pediatrician and they did some blood work. He asked Johnathon when David was adopted because the blood types were not compatible; that's how he found out that David was not his son. That really hurt Johnathon. I knew, in my heart, he wasn't; but the test said the blood types couldn't be from Johnathon's seed. Finding out he wasn't David's father, wounded his pride, and turned him bitter.

"How did you overcome that?"

Curious, I asked her, wanting to know how she managed to stay married during the last six months. I really didn't see why Johnathon was so miffed about sharing Rachel with me — if he could share her with others then he didn't have any rational foundation for doing otherwise. As for David, I am sure Rachel didn't plan to carry a child. Birth control pills are not 100% effective—accidents happen and you live with them.

She responded, "I appealed to his ego and it helped pacify his pride. I made an arrangement with him."

"It has been easy enough since he accepted it. We go to the malls together. He picks out a woman he likes and I have to seduce her; convince her to have sex with him. The deal is that I have to stay, watch, and build up the lust between them. When he is done—he discards her. Sometimes, the women or girls feel bad about being used. But I guess that's okay. Because of it, I get to have you once a year.

At first, he thought it would be an impossible task that I couldn't achieve. He wanted to piss me off; castrate our relationship. But after that first 'date,' he fell in love with the idea of fucking a stranger on a whim. Johnathon is no saint. He has his own sins to bear Mr. Radisson."

"But he says it's time—before David develops issues over not knowing those answers—to introduce him to his father for David's own well-being."

I found my lips pursing as I pushed two fingers inside, perhaps a bit more forcefully than I should have at the early stage of foreplay. Learning about Johnathon's actions six months later, felt like a thorn intentionally driven into my side.

"My love, you have kept that a secret for six months—your plan?" I asked.

Guess she could tell I was miffed. Clearly, she could tell my movements had slipped out of sync for a bit. I knew it, as she momentarily stiffened when I hit a pleasure spot a bit too forcefully.

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"Daddy, you have to figure out a way to tell David you are more than his grandfather!"

Her plea choked, as a gasp took her breath away. It was cut short by climatic tremors clutching in her vaginal wall and radiating through her abdominal muscles, as they seized from waves of pleasure.

Silence crept into the room as my fingertips lightly flowed up and down her thighs. Her buttocks flexed and twitched, as the sounds of her breathing escalated into light huffs at her physical, sexual resolution.

"How long do I have to think about this?" I asked, as my fingers paused just short of probing her vaginal canal.

"How long?" she cried out, as my fingers strummed her clit.

"It's not as long as it's going to take your hand to probe my cunt again, Daddy. There is no 'think about this' in the equation! This is going to be one of your profound milestones; just like in that book you told me about. One monumental milestone that Mom never let us forget." Rachel's voice was struggling, the words were caught up in the maelstrom of her body's reaction to my stimulation and her need to continue the train of thought she felt was so desperately needed to have amidst her rising passion.

"I was eighteen when you asked me to fly to Atlanta and meet you for a spontaneous birthday celebration. You laughed and then said it might piss Mom off so just hop on a plane and fly down. It was ... wonderful. You made me feel so mature. It felt so emboldened to explore my sexuality with you—something beautiful and natural. I believed it was. I know it was, Daddy.

"Mom just didn't understand that. And now here we are, ten years later having the same discussion. Instead of life moving on, it seems we are caught up in a repetitive loop.

"Where, Daddy, is the next milestone for us?"

My fingers had completed a series of broad-brush strokes spreading her lubricants across her inner and out labia. I slipped my cock inside and began slowly and methodically to deepen my penetration. Rachel's emerald eyes watched me, then closed, knowing I was more concerned with kindling her passions than any preoccupation with David, at least for the moment. She emptied her thoughts and let her body flow. Let it fill with wantonness. And let it raise until that sequestered primordial cry rose up and out of her throat; in, yet, one more powerful orgasm.

At the first sounds of her cry, my eyes sprung open. My lips curled into a smile as the spread of rapture flowed across her face. Her mouth twisted and contorted with writhing pleasure while her head automatically tilted backward. It was amazing to watch her body jerk so intensely in response to her release. At her peak, I took my own release, driving, and thrusting relentlessly until my seed coursed inside her. My own primordial grunts sounded like echoes rebounding down Grand Canyon.

I lay prone upon her panting body. My dick still in her cunt. Our bodies were drenched in perspiration from the heat being built into a fiery lust. Her glistening breasts heaved. I felt waves of heated breath gasping out of me and flowing across her collarbone, as my lips pressed against her shoulder.

"Rachel, you have defined that next monumental milestone in our lives. One we can write down in our own book for David to read when he comes of age." I managed to haltingly groan out the words as my cock lays buried inside her. My cock still pulsed within her vagina as I stared into her eyes. My muscles felt atrophied. Neither of us felt the will, nor the strength to move.

"When should I come to meet David?"

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I was awaiting her answer, starting to grind again, against her wet quim. But it was cut short. That soft southern bell's voice broke the stillness. The call came from the suite's outer living room.

"Hello! HELLO! Is there anyone here?" the syrupy voice ventured a shout out in the dimly lit living area.

Rachel's lust-hardened look turned into a smirk. She whispered, "I suppose you didn't tell her about me, did you, ... you cad! You gave her a key card and let her think she was going to be alone with you—right, Daddy?"

"Well, I wanted that to be a surprise for her, as well. I wasn't sure she had experienced anything like this. It wasn't something that you discuss across the aisle of an open airplane, Rachel. So, perhaps I did leave out some of the details," I answered, as I pulled my cock out of her wet canal. Rolling over and out of bed, I strolled out to greet my airline companion, in anticipation of a late evening treat for three."

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I guess Daddy certainly saw the sullen look on my face, as he eased his still engorged cock out of my sopping wet quim. My facial expression and my mood weren't exactly matching the throbbing feelings created by the heat now cooling inside my spasming vagina. I watched his well-toned, naked, man-ape form slide off the side of the mattress to go greet our unsuspecting guest in the living room.

To be fair, though, Daddy was still handsome; still adept at making love or fucking, whichever way was required. So, perhaps man-ape was a bit too harsh of a thought, too judgmental, perhaps. Considering that he thought to invite a celebratory gift for this evening, I retracted some of my pissiness toward him. I sat up on the edge of the bed and waited, listening in as they greeted one another in the living room. Stretching my legs open a bit wider than necessary in preparation for a proper greeting, I did my best to retract some of bitchiness that had gotten past my social filters.

A smile sprang across my face as I heard her southern charms ring out as she must have caught sight of him. "Oh my! Sugar, you certainly have a way of greeting a lady at the door. Naked and all ... upright like that!" Her tone seemed to be going catawampus. I guessed that was caused by seeing his sizeable meat stick preceding him, as he entered the dimly lit room.

"My apologies. I didn't want to seem so ... forward. I was about to change when you entered. I was engaged in a business transaction, previously. But, it's just a natural response to remembering how beautiful you looked seated across from me on the plane."

"Well, I've never been to a business meeting where a man's flagpole rose while he was getting dressed.

That sort of thing usually comes at the end of most 'business meetings,' honey. My! It's a bit warm in here!"

"Then let's make you more comfortable. Let me take your jacket for you. My that's a lovely blouse—not the same one you wore on the airplane though, honey."

I heard Daddy's attempted imitation of her voice inflections say in reply. His comment was followed by few moments of quiet.

'Probably got his lips locked onto hers.' I thought, in the silence that ensued.

The silence didn't last long.

Soft moans replaced it. They were mixed with a rising cadence shortly thereafter. I knew, from experience, his lips had sealed off her ability to attempt verbal rejection. By now his hands had probably pulled her panties down to her knees, at least. Certainly, a finger would be thrusted against her mons by this time. Strip away her clothing and let his cock press against her would be his first objective. Get her beyond a modest compromised position would be the second objective, so she had no recourse, but to bend to his will.

If she still resisted at that point, he would stop. Daddy would politely apologize and help her redress. No harm. Daddy wasn't overbearing. He could handle rejection like water rolling off a duck's back. Mr. Radisson never forced himself on any woman or girl. We would just consider it her loss and he would return to bed and pick up where we left off. In either case, the loss of a third partner for the night wouldn't have flummoxed his plans.

Now, she wasn't raising her voice, I noted.

There was no adamant rejection cried out; no sound from Daddy, either.

Given the duration, he was probably on his knees and his tongue was too preoccupied to speak.

If she yielded, at least at this point, he would scoop her up in his burly arms and bring her to our bed. That next stage—in her decision-making—would be discovering me, and whether to stay or bail.

If she stays, well then, all is fair game at that point; up to, but not including, harmful pain.

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"Oh! God! Yes. Yes!"

Daddy came through the bedroom doorway like a triumphant woodsman, carrying game for the evening feast. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and a gleeful smile ran ear to ear, as she stared into his emerald eyes. That look changed quickly, as she caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye.

"What the hell?" she sputtered, as her nude body stiffened in Daddy's arms. Her eyes darted between his smile and my widely splayed thighs. She was fixed on my laser-treated, naked pussy.

I smiled at the display of the grinning woodsman carrying in a naked damsel, "Daddy said you were gorgeous! Just a wonderful long drink of water he said, honey."

"I'm Rachel, by the way," I crooned as I watched the shocked look freeze upon her face. Ten years in Georgia and I certainly had the drawl down much better than Daddy!

I grinned at the sight of her sucking in her bottom lip as she took in my splayed legs. Those soft brown orbs drilled into my still glistening slit that Daddy's cock had just vacated.

"I know this might seem awkward and all, sugar, but I was so looking forward to pleasuring you tonight when Daddy told me you might be arriving. Had I known you were this beautiful, I'd have waited until you got here, to start the evening right! Just totally focused on you, honey, you know? You're going to be fine. Daddy will take care of you, just as well as he does me."

Daddy and I waited, not speaking, and still for the next few moments.

Experience told me; she was leaning toward staying.

Her silence showed her contemplative thoughts on fright and flight; or stay and play. I knew the answer. Daddy did, too, as her tenseness eased. He set her down and she alighted on her feet at the foot of the bed. She stood motionless.

"Come, lay down next to me, dear. Let me taste your honey," I whispered and waited.

She moved to the spot I patted beside me and scooted back a bit as she sat. Her long legs tucked up and then she rolled onto the bed; sliding next to me, wordlessly committing herself to us.

"What's your name, sugar?" I whispered, as my finger traced her nipple.

"Caroline," she managed, in a dry soft whisper.

"If you decide to stop, Caroline, just call out 'Georgia,' understand? That will be your safe word, okay, sugar?"

"Yes. Well, why not just say, 'Don't, stop'?"

"Sugar, if you say 'don't' and 'stop' close enough together the meaning gets really confusing!" I chuckled, as I watched her try to mentally handle that process while my hand played alongside her breast.

"Sugar, listen to how it goes, 'Don't, stop!' and 'Don't stop!' Hear the difference, Caroline?"

"Oh! I get it, now!" she nodded with a grin. Quickly it dropped off her lips, as my fingertip grazed her nipple. A light, audible gasp came from deep within her throat, as her lips opened. The breathy response was filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Her agitation clearly indicated this was going to be a first experience for her. All the signs of uneasiness were there. Yet, her actions implied her consent to a woman's touch. I tarried with her breasts for a bit longer.

"Good, girl, Caroline! Close your eyes, sweet thing. Relax. We're going to do all those things you've probably always wanted to do—or maybe, already have—but, I assure you, it will feel wonderfully better performed by Daddy and I. And tomorrow, only you, Daddy, and I will ever know how good it felt for you, and for us, tonight, baby girl. These will be memories to tell your children about when they ask you what it was like for your first threesome!"

As I spoke, Daddy moved to the far side of the bed and slid next to our delectable evening dessert. We bisected her body using our tongues to target a breast each, a pair of ribs each, a hip bone each, and then met below to teasingly duel over her clit and her slit. It was similar to the techniques of slow Gentle Hatha Yoga that Daddy had shared with me the first day we had sex. Her breathing deepened as we gently stoked her arousal. It took just a few moments before her legs began to gently open allowing more freedom; acknowledging she was enjoying serving dessert, and taking pleasure from the dual tongues between her thighs.

She was wonderful; soon surging with sounds, painted in a glowing sheen of perspiration, and moisture from arousal seeping from her inner folds as a synergy built up among us.

With lust building inside her, she clutched two handfuls of sheets. It helped her struggle against flailing and striking out uncontrollably. It was nice to feel all that tension coursing through her butt and leg muscles. Daddy and I took turns probing her cunt to stimulate the vaginal contractions. His probing fingers switched on the electrical currents sparking her G-spot stimulation. It caused her legs to squeeze against Daddy's hand as he pressed it firmly against her mons. While my fingertips on her nipples fueled the carnal fire that was erupting between her legs. Her voice rose from light moans to flat-out cries of joy as they peaked in a string of profanity when she came—the first time. The firm grasp of wadded sheets helped to keep Caroline from thrusting her fingers into her own aching cunt to speed her resolution.