Family Secrets (8 page)

Not that he'd ever smoked Virginia Slims—he
was a Chesterfield Kings type of guy when he used to suck down the
tar and tobacco fumes—but he knew the Slims have to do under the
circumstances.

That night he'd smoked and thought, and the
more he'd thought, the guiltier he'd felt because his mind had kept
going back to what he and his stepdaughter had just done upstairs.
He'd looked at the clock and had seen that Susan wouldn't be back
home for another few hours. She was going out to play bingo with a
group of her girlfriends, going to a bar to drink too much beer and
possibly a few shots that she'd fail to mention to Luke, and then
she'd call from one of her friends' houses, sloshed, telling him
that she was sleeping it off and then she'd head home after that.
He hadn't ever thought Susan cheated—not with another man,
anyway—and he didn't mind a little drinking whenever she had a
night or two off, but didn't want her drunk driving. That was the
one thing he detested someone—
anyone
—doing. His father had
been a drunk as far as the old stories went that he'd heard, and a
drunk driver had killed Scott's biological mother; Luke took a
drink on occasion, but he'd never been a hard drinker nor had he
ever hit the bottle hard enough to get pissy drunk. He'd been
around friends that had done it, and every now and then Susan got
three sheets to the wind, but he stuck with the cancer sticks and
the occasional sip of the hard stuff when the mood was appropriate,
and that was all when it came to alcohol.

The smokes were his poison of choice, but
even they couldn't take his mind off the very thing he'd been
determined to keep his mind off that evening.

After good sex, he'd always had a smoke or
two years before, and then he'd find a soda somewhere in the
fridge—he always kept a few cold sodas around—and he'd quench the
thirst that came from his after-sex exertion, but that night
nothing had quenched his thirst or quieted his thoughts because he
hadn't wanted to admit the truth. And his truth at that time had
been damnable.

He'd wanted more. He'd wanted another round.
His cock had been itching for it.

And before he even knew what was happening he
was pushing open the door to Brittney's room where she was lying on
her side, with her left hand resting atop her right under her face,
with her face itself looking serene, lineless, untroubled and
unsettlingly young under the dim light in the room. She'd looked
angelic, when he knew that she was anything but; she'd looked like
the type of young lady who would spend Friday evenings helping her
mother in the kitchen, baking for a last-minute, weekend bake sale.
She'd looked like the type who blushed at swear words and offered
to take over someone else's project at school if it meant helping
out a teacher. She did not, however, look like the type of girl who
would waltz into her parents' bedroom wearing nothing at all, and
then proceed to offer her stepdad some of the hottest piece of ass
he'd had in years.

Back then, on that first night, Luke had
wondered to himself how much she knew about sex, and if Scott had
been the one to teach her most of the what she knew. After all, by
the time Scott got his hands on Brittney, the boy had been to the
brothel a little more than half a dozen times. Luke hadn't gotten a
play-by-play of events, but Scott had mentioned that he'd doubted
sex with any of the girls he went to school with could have ever
been as good as the sex he'd had with his favorite brothel-worker,
"Sandie."

Leaning over, he'd pushed a lock of hair from
Brittney's forehead and marveled at how smooth her skin was. And
right then, her eyes had fluttered and the lids had lifted,
revealing a set of sleep-dreamy eyes that were as innocent as the
rest of her features in that dark, starry night.

"Daddy?" she'd asked, her voice still thick
from after having dozed off. Not that Luke could have blamed the
girl; she'd cum at least three or four times, squirting her
precious little heart out in the process. That should have made
anybody tired.

But with that one word, Luke felt a dryness
in his mouth that came on instantly. She'd stopped calling him
"Daddy" or "Dad" right after she'd found out that he knew about her
and Scott. Ever since then, he'd been "Luke" to her with no other
title go with that he knew of. When he'd first heard her call him
by his first name, he'd been hurt by it, but at the same time it
had been a somewhat logical response to the situation and he'd
accepted it. Nobody could have everything, but it had hurt that
after all the years of building their relationship he'd been
demoted to "Luke." Not that he could blame her, and not that he'd
had any great solutions to any of his life's problems.

Back then, when she'd first started calling
him by his first name, he'd adjusted, but hearing her call him
Daddy again made him feel strange…strange and delighted in some
sick, backward, perverse way. And she only did it during something
sexual he noticed. After she'd given him that blowjob for the first
time, she might have been calling him Daddy while it had been going
on, but when Susan got home, he'd become Luke to her once again and
she hadn't acted as if anything had changed between the two of
them. Britt was a good actress he was wroth to notice, and he
thought it was both good and terrible that she was.

His cock had twitched in his underwear
hearing her call him Daddy, and it had only solidified the idea
that in his head that he'd wanted more of her. His first thought
had been to tell her to stop calling him that, but that perverse
part of his maleness didn't want her to stop it. That twisted part
of his mind and anatomy
liked
when she called him that. Dare
he admit it, he loved it when she called him Daddy and groaned it
when he was deep inside her.

"Roll over," he'd said to her. Slowly
Brittney had obeyed his request, rolling her body from her side to
her back, spreading her legs in the process. Most of her body was
still covered by the top bed sheet, but Luke had remedied that in
seconds, and in the next second, he'd climbed onto her bed and had
started crawling over to her with a hungry look in his eyes.

What he was truly hungry for Brittney found
out only a few minutes later after he'd sucked her nipples with a
fervor she had never felt in her life. Never had Scott sucked her
nipples that way before, with such skill and madness that she
nearly came from the sensations of his mouth sucking ferociously,
nibbling, and gently biting her tits, going from one and then the
other. It wasn't until she'd begun panting from the treatment of
her breasts alone that he'd snaked his hands lower, down the path
of her torso, until he got to the thong she'd been wearing. It
wasn't until later—weeks later—that he found out why she slept in a
thong most of the time.

Scott had been the one to suggest that she
wear thongs to bed sometimes because he loved to have her pussy
already wet if he just so happened to sneak into her bedroom one
night, and he claimed that the friction the thin material of the
thong provided rubbed against her clit and in the crack of her ass,
turning her on without her realizing it. She had to admit that
wearing thongs weren't just about not showing panty lines, but it
was about the great turn-on affect as well. She hadn't always been
in the mood to have sex with Scott in the past, but the thong
usually gave her leeway. As long as she had on a thong or g-string
when Scott came into her room, she was always wet even if she
wasn't at all horny.

But as Luke had grabbed the material and
started yanking it aside so that he could play with her clit as he
sucked her nipples, the only thought that had run through her head
had been,
Scott never did this to me before!

Within seconds after finding her clit and
rubbing it tenderly while he still went at her breasts with the
same ferocity as he had been doing, she came, hard and trembling
underneath Luke's mouth and his hand.

But he didn't back off; although he hadn't
shoved his cock into her either, which was already stone hard by
the time Brittney was panting and whimpering and grabbing at his
hair during her orgasm. She'd cum right in the palm of his hand, a
medium climax he could tell, and none of the gushing squirts he'd
experienced from her earlier that night, but to have her cum with
him simply sucking and massaging her breasts and playing with her
clit was a good sign.

She's so ripe
, he'd thought in his own
voice with none of the additives. His voice of good and logic had
quieted and so had the cajoling voice that urged him to take what
he wanted without thinking of anything or anyone else. That second
voice had always said to hell with consequences and then would
chastise him later. But all Luke had heard that night in his head
had been his own and he was glad that had been all he'd heard, same
as the only thing he'd wanted to feel was the physical pleasure of
being with another woman in a new way without thinking of her as
anything other than that—a horny, wanton woman.

After she came that time, he'd moved his body
lower, with this next position being his face between her thighs.
He couldn't recall the last time he'd relished in giving oral sex
before his tongue had slinked deep inside of Brittney's twat,
before he was sucking on her clit, and drinking down all the juices
he could that came out of her most sacred of holes. He tried not to
think about what she'd said earlier, but it had come back as easily
to his mind as any unwelcome thought when you least expected
it.

Scott says my pussy juice is sweet
,
she'd said a few days earlier. Then she'd asked him,
Don't you
want to taste me, too?

The answer to that second question had easily
been yes, though he hadn't wanted to admit it then, and it would
have been even harder for him to admit it with his face buried in
her crotch as he licked and lapped away, but he hadn't wanted to
deal with her first statement, the one concerning Scott.

You're getting your son's sloppy seconds
Luke-y
, the other voice in his head had said with his tongue
massaging Britt's pinkness, moving her soft flesh around over his
lips as he felt the honeyed warmth of her juices coat his taste
buds.
Everything you're tasting and about to plow, Scott's had
ten times over! A hundred times over! A thousand! Ha-ha! The joke's
not only
on
you, but you
are
the joke! How about
that? Just how do you feel about that!

It was the first time that cajoling voice had
sounded truly menacing, and not only had it taken Luke off guard,
but it had also angered him—and rattled his nerves just enough to
disorient him slightly. Determined to get his mind completely
focused again, he'd wrapped his arms around Brittney's thighs, and
with new vigor, he'd started eating her pussy as he'd probably
eaten no other woman before in his entire life. It wasn't long
before she was screaming and shivering in his arms, as her walls
quivered and pulsated around his tongue. He'd been going so hard at
her with his mouth that he'd managed to make her cum without the
use of his hands at all.

And regardless of any smidgen of thought he'd
had of Scott and Brittney's previous rendezvous, Luke was pleased
to see that he was still rock hard and rearing to go.

It became not wholly about pleasure on his
part, but it had become more about victory. He had to conquer
Brittney in a way that made her not Scott's, but his and his
alone—at least in his mind he'd wanted it that way.

Once her orgasm died down, Luke realized he'd
actually hoisted the lower half of her body off the bed completely
and he'd been gobbling her pussy in midair as she'd been balancing
herself on her neck. Not that it had looked as if she'd minded the
physical acrobatics. And once he dropped her back on the surface of
the bed, he was also pleased to see that she was dripping wet, so
wet that her pussy had been glistening in the moonlight and had
made a wet spot on the bed.

Eagerly he'd plunked his hard, fat cock on
her pussy, measuring his man meat against the size of the person he
was about to invade. Maybe Scott had had her first, but when it
came to measuring up in size, Luke knew he'd won in every single
way that counted.

Scott was built more like Luke's late wife
than Luke himself. Scott stood an impressive five-foot
ten-and-a-half-inches, but he looked short whenever he stood up
next to Luke's six-foot four-inch frame. Not only that, but no
matter how much Scott worked out, they both knew that he would
never acquire the same muscle mass as Luke. Luke was a big man with
Native American-esque features that stood out every single time.
He'd never had any trouble garnering attention from men or women;
most men were afraid of him, and most women wanted to sleep with
him. There were women who fantasized about him from the past and
women who wanted him and fantasized about being with him in the
present, and they'd always wondered how in the world he'd ended up
with someone like Susan in the first place.

But at the time when Luke was measuring
himself up against his son, their difference in height or muscle
mass didn't matter; what mattered to Luke was that his cock was
huge compared to his son's. A sick little part of him had always
been proud of that fact, as well as a little ashamed for being so
proud of it, but as he'd slapped what looked like an obese erection
on top of Brittney's clit and slit, there was no shame in him that
he could feel. His cock was roughly the size of a Coke bottle and
he could cum ounces; he was surprised that Brittney had taken all
of him inside of her earlier with such delight; some women in his
past had told him he'd been
too
big to handle. However,
Brittney had seemed thrilled with the fact that he was so well
hung.