Sharing Jessie

Jessie was an exotic beauty. Average height and slightly above average weight, her blue eyes were points of azure that blazed brighter due to her dusky hue. She usually wore her dark hair down, hiding delicate scallop ears; her hands were delicate with long artistic fingers; her lines were long yet her curves were breathtaking. There was no chance I could find this goddess on my own, a 25 year old nymph with a bright laugh and brighter wit: she came into my life when she moved into my house to be my daughter Missy's lover.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson. Would you like some lemonade?" It was a white hot southern Missouri July Saturday afternoon when she appeared in the doorway of my shed with a tray in her hands. She was wearing a textured gold halter top with white shorts, barefoot with pink polish on all her nails.

I gave her a long look, then came to my senses enough to respond. "Sure, you read my mind. Thanks." I got up from scraping the blade of my lawnmower and moved over to take the glass from the tray with a wince. Getting older isn't for sissies, and even at the age of 56 I would get creaks and stiff joints if I sat too long in one place. I stretched to work out a couple of kinks before grasping the frosty offering and sipped it, finding it the perfect balance between sweet and tart and ice cold. "Taking a break?"

"Yeah. Just got finished sweeping and dusting, and saw you moving the grass. Thought you'd need something like this." She hit me with the biggest smile I've ever seen, and I wondered what was going on. She was persuasive, she was appealing, and she could turn on the charm. Why she was doing it now was a puzzle.

I noticed her hair was tied up in a bun on top of her head: a cool look in the typical Missouri summer swelter. Her day job was working for Admissions at the University, having met Missy while they were both students. It looked like she'd put on a little makeup: she didn't do it on days she wasn't working, and her nails were usually clear instead of pink. Missy was the one who liked to dress up, always had since she discovered what frills were. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?" I asked.

She perched on a short stool toward the middle of the floor, putting the tray on the extra broad windowsill of the converted detached garage. It was a larger building than usual for a garage, with an upper room with a cot and toilet. When my wife Gladys was alive, Gladdie knew when I was working here I needed solitude. Missy respected that from childhood's hour, so I knew Jessie wanted something.

Jessie looked around for a moment at random. Clearing her throat, she started: "I want to talk with you about something delicate. May I?"

"Sure," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"I've appreciated your hospitality and generosity since I moved in six months ago. I know you've struggled with Missy's sexuality for years, and it took a lot for you to let me move in."

"Yeah. Right. You've been real nice to me since you got here, and I appreciate it."

A small smile creased her lips. "I can imagine a guy of your generation who grew up here would have trouble dealing with a mixed race person as well. It probably bothers you my father is a black man and my mother is white."

I turned my head away, and nodded slightly. Not proud of the leftover racism that still tweaked me now and then, but that's how I grew up. Still feel uneasy around interracial couples I see out and about, so I didn't like Jessie hanging around at first. But Jessie didn't get to choose who her folks were, so it didn't make sense to blame her for that. "I'm workin' on it."

"Well, I have a confession for you."

My eyes grew wide as I looked at her. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "I'm completely in love with Missy: I'd sacrifice my life for her in a heartbeat. I can't imagine spending any part of my life from now on without her."

I nodded as she paused. Jessie seemed to be a good person, and seemed to treat Missy well. Missy and I had our tensions since she told me she was a lesbian at age 16. My preacher wasn't much help, said I had to throw her out as a sinner, but she was my only child, and I loved her no matter what. I'd taken care of her all by myself: Gladdie died when she was born, so I threw the First Baptist Church out of my life and sat home Sunday mornings. Missy always seemed tense around me, but she was loyal and took care of me when I was sick. She went to college in Springfield so she could live at home, and took a job at the library after she graduated. "So you want to get married? Can't do that in Missouri."

"No, we can't, but that's OK. The paper doesn't matter to us right now. We know we belong together, and we're glad you can cope with that as much as you do. My Dad threw me out of the house when I came out to him, and Mom died right after that."

"Sorry, I didn't know that."

"Anyway, I've always struggled with something. You know there are people who are straight and people who are gay. . ."

"Yeah?"

". . .and people in every place in the middle."

She paused and I digested her intent. There was a darkening at the window as a cloud passed in front of the sun, but it moved quickly. I looked at her and she was looking at me strangely. There were many emotions in her face: fear, anxiety, questioning, and something that seemed to be hunger. Scratching my head, I asked: "Are you saying you don't vote a straight party ballot?"

A huge laugh came out of her, a chortle of surprised glee I'd never heard before. "My God, Mr. Anderson, you can be so funny at times. 'Straight party ballot'? That's perfectly awful."

The pun finally dawned on me and I groaned. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right, I needed that." I took a sip of the lemonade and she continued: "Every now and then I want a man. Not to settle down with, but a change of pace. Had some awful experiences picking up guys for an occasional. . .encounter, and I was trying to think of a strong, mature, vibrant man I could depend on."

A massive surge of electricity went through my body, and I looked her full in the eyes. They were pleading with me, intense, eager. Going around to stand behind her, I put my hands on her shoulders. Her skin was silky smooth, her shoulders square. Her breathing increased and she resumed in a quavering voice: "I've seen you moving the grass and washing the car, you're such a strong man. There's a big bulge in your pants, I've seen it. I bet it's been a long time since you've been with a woman. Missy told me."

I traced her shoulder blades with my finger tips, wishing my hands were softer. After thirty five years as a bricklayer, my hands are rough and calloused, and I'm sure my touch must have felt like sandpaper, but she welcomed it. "So are you saying you want me to. . ."

"Fuck me. Once in a while, once or twice a week. It's all right with Missy; she signed a note saying it's OK; I can show it to you. She don't want me getting fucked by a stranger, picking up a disease, geting a guy jealous. She loves you and wants you to be happy."

My hands moved under her halter top and she sighed in delight. Her breasts were loose, her nipples were getting hard. I pinched one and she sighed again. "Daddy's hands were rough. He didn't touch me there, but I loved it when he put lotion on my back. Oh, what are you doing to me? Ahh. . ."

I gathered two soft handfuls into my palms and she reached to undo the ties. After she threw the garment aside, I saw her nipples were dark brown, almost black, against her light chocolate skin. She reached around to feel the front of my bib overalls, searching for my package. "So strong, so wonderful. I want your cock, Mr. Anderson. I want your cock."

Not wasting any time, I came around in front of her and let my overalls droop. It was a hot day and I wasn't wearing underwear; my tan lines ended where my t-shirt began on my neck and arms. Her eyes lit up when she saw what I had to offer, her hands moving over my cock and balls before I could blink. "So big, so big. Missy told me you had a huge cock. I want this so much, Mr. Anderson."

For some odd reason, calling me Mr. Anderson made me hard as a rock at that moment, my cock springing to attention. She worshipped it, rubbing the shaft on her cheek and playing with my nuts. "It's been years," I croaked, "all the women round here are scared of me. Except Gladdie, she was the only one."

Her tongue ran up and down the shaft, tickling the end just under the head. "Oh, I'm not scared, Mr. Anderson. I want this cock, I want it in my mouth, I want it in my cunt, I want it up my ass." She sucked the head of my cock into her mouth, her tongue working up and down and all round the delicate ridges, making my knees weak. When I thought I was going to lose my mind, she moaned and took as much as she could down her throat: I got three quarters of my length between her loving lips. I couldn't believe it, I couldn't get any woman to do that for me before.

Suddenly she popped up, whipped off her shorts and jumped on my worktable, spreading her legs wide. I didn't need her to tell me what she wanted, but I wanted to get her ready. I put my hand to her crotch and played with the folds between her legs. Her hips moved forward, welcoming me, and I bent over to get a rubbery bit of tit goodness into my mouth. Letting out a yelp, she scratched my back, almost digging into the skin, holding my head against her breast with surprising strength.

Suddenly, she pushed me off and pulled my cock toward her groin. Sticking the head in, I waited as she paused for a moment, catching her breath, until I started thrusting. It took a while to work it all in, she was real tight, but at last I was balls deep and she was bucking hard against me, my balls slapping on her skin. The feeling was incredible; I couldn't believe it was happening to me, and she buried her head in my shoulder, moaning. She must have orgasmed, throwing her head back and ululating as her hips stopped, holding me deep inside her for a seeming lifetime before she started thrusting again. It had been so long since I'd climaxed I didn't, so after she recovered she fucked again until she came again two minutes later.

Jumping off the table, she dropped to her knees and started licking my cock. "I love the taste of my own pussy juice, I love how I taste on your cock." Like an animal, she was licking and sucking until a long lost sensation built inside me and I overflowed her hungry mouth. She took a good mouthful then pulled it out to spew all over her face, shoulders and chest. Her hands moved all over, working the liquid into her skin, her tongue licking around her mouth as she licked my semen off her face.

Missy worked the Saturday afternoon shift at the library, so it became a habit for Jessie to meet me in the shed Saturday afternoons. It was more beautiful than I could imagine, playful and sweet, and I'd forgotten how wonderful good sex could be. During the week, the girls were more relaxed around me than ever before, and Missy in particular smiled more and kidded with me as she did in her early teens. A couple of hot afternoons, we played hooky and went to the theater, snuggled together eating popcorn and watching action movies.

About a month, Jessie had a request for me. "I've always dreamed of getting fucked while I'm eating someone out. Would you stick your magic cock in me while I lick Missy's pussy?"

"I don't know. What does Missy think about this?"

"She's up for it, with conditions. She's fine if you want to and fine if you don't."

That surprised me greatly, but Jessie was so eager it was hard to deny her. So we skipped a Saturday afternoon session and I saved myself for the evening. I went to the local watering hole for a brew or two while they had dinner, and came back at a time I'd set with Jessie. She met me at the door naked, and kissed me before leading me in by the hand. "Missy will only do this if she has no choice. So when you come in, her hands will be tied to the head of the bed. She'll be blindfolded too, and asks you not to talk. It's OK if you touch her, even finger fuck her a little while I'm getting you ready. We'll see how it goes."

We came into their bedroom with Missy as described. She was Jessie's height and few pounds heavier than Jessie: Missy reminded me of her mother Gladdie as she lay there in the soft light. Her hair was long and dark, like her mother's had been. Several candles provided illumination in a room of old fashioned lace and velvet. Jessie led me to the side of the bed, and started licking my cock to get it ready. I reached out and touched Missy's leg; she moaned and spread them apart. I played with her slit, teasing the clit while savoring Jessie's wonderful tongue on my cock. Before long, Jessie moved to stick her face in Missy's crotch and raised up on her knees to open herself to me. A fine familiar hand guided me in, and before long I was fucking Jessie doggy style like a piston while she stuck her tongue up Missy's snatch. Missy's legs came up over Jessie's shoulders, crossing behind her back. On a whim, I nibbled Missy's toes and she squealed in delight, wiggling them and thrusting them toward me.

It was better than I could have imagined. Missy writhed and Jessie wiggled; the animal sounds they made me feel like a stallion. I smacked Jessie's bubble butt a few times and felt a flood rush down my cock. Missy also writhed hard against her bonds, shrieking in orgasm, and I felt I was close myself. Suddenly, Jessie darted out from under me and grabbed my cock, pulling it forward. "You'll love this, Missy, it tastes like my cunt. Lick it, suck on it."

Jessie gave me an inviting look and nodded. I paused for a moment, but then I remembered an old fantasy of mine. Gladdie was always an enthusiastic lover who couldn't get enough, taking me in her cunt and ass frequently, but she never sucked my cock. I used to fantasize about it, while she was alive and after she was gone. Missy as the spitting image of her mother. Now it seemed I had my chance, so I stuck the head of my cock in my daughter's mouth.

"Lick all around it, Missy, get all that cunt juice off it. Don't it taste good?" Missy moaned in response and her tongue played over my skin like a live wire. "Probably gettin' a little of his taste, too. Like it?"

"Mmm mmm."

"If you keep doing it, he'll probably blow his wad in your mouth."

"Mmm mmm." Missy kept at it, running her tongue all around the end of my cock, sucking vigorously. Looking down, I saw Jessie's hand buried in Missy's cunt, thrusting hard, and suddenly Jessie's mouth came up to attack my ballsack like a whirlwind. It was more than I could stand; I couldn't help myself. I started unloading my nuts in my baby girl's mouth with a howl.

After a few spurts, Jessie pulled me out to take a good mouthful herself, then started kissing Missy open mouthed, swapping sperm. The last dribbles came down to land on their chests, lubricating the friction of their bodies. Jessie's hand came out of Missy's snatch and went to her breast. Out of curiosity, I put my hand down there in its place. I knew my hand was bigger than Jessie's but I wanted to know how much I could get in. I inserted one finger and she wiggled her hips, asking for more. Two, three and four fingers were an easy fit, so I flattened my hand and prepared to fist her like I fisted Jessie a couple of weeks before. Missy was still moaning, wiggling in invitation and swapping fluids with Jessie, so I got my fist in up to my wrist. Jessie's hand started tugging her nipple, squeezing hard as I savaged her cunt, and it wasn't long before a flood covered my arm halfway way up to my elbow.

I laid back beside my daughter, who was released from her restraints. Jessie lay on her stomach between us, pulling my right hand over to lick the juices off my fingers and hand. We were drenched with sweat, and happy.

Jessie purred after she finished sucking my fingers and chuckled as my monster stirred back to life. "You're fantastic, Mr. Anderson. Guess what? I missed my period."

"That's great, Jess," Missy purred. "Let's raise a baby together." Leaning over, she gave me a long kiss and beamed at me. "That's the best gift of all. Thank you, Daddy."

A big weight lifted off my shoulders. Gladdie and I planned on a houseful of kids after Missy, and I always missed the losing that. "You're welcome, baby," I whispered as she laid her head on my shoulder. "Thanks, Jessie."

Jessie purred into my armpit. "Thank you, Mr. Anderson."

I stroked her hair and looked at her. "Oh, I think since you're carrying my baby you can call me Dale."

She shook her head. "That's OK. I think it's sexier to call you Mr. Anderson." A wicked smile creased her face, and her tongue started playing with the end of my cock again.